


Too Close to Home

by Seaneta



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animal Abuse, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Bottom Tony Stark, Evil!Loki, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Loki is a shit, M/M, Mind Control, Mind-fuckery, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shapeshifter Loki, Stolen Voice, Swearing, Tony can lift Thor's Hammer, Tony has a dog, Tony is bad at charades
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaneta/pseuds/Seaneta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is a successor to the throne of Asgard after lifting Mjölnir. The new development isn't as great as everyone originally thought. Especially when Loki decides to come back from the dead to get rid of competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...this was originally just going to be mind-control porn without plot. But then I made plot. Apparently lots of it. Because I’m always like “here’s the porn. But how did we get here?” So, I ended up writing some drabbles that I deemed worthy enough to attach with the story. So, expect entire sections with loose plot, cute stuff, interesting stuff, descriptions. Then there will be entire sections devoted to nothing but vulgarities and horrible, evil, sexy things that I put characters I love through.  
> As usual, heed the warnings and I hope you enjoy reading as I loved writing this.  
> Also, Tony has a dog because reasons. And although this takes place after the AoU storyline, Bruce is present. And Tony can lift the hammer. That's the great thing about fanfiction; you can imagine stuff a different way.

 

“My people are with rejoice, Warrior Stark!”

There were only a few employees in the lounge on the ground floor, some familiar agents Tony had seen around the facility but couldn’t say what, exactly, their expertise was, and more recognizable faces like Wanda and Clint. The man stood by an empty table, reviewing the updated report on the Coleman case with every swipe of his tablet. He tried to ignore Maximoff’s sideways glances, knowing she was put-off with the fact Tony recently began to wear a thin metal band hidden beneath the base of his hair; it didn’t allow for any telepathic attacks, any kind of mental invasion.

It was still in its trial stage, with only a few minor tweaks to work out. Tony was still weary of the mutant, ever since the witch’s emotions got the best of her during a battle and Ironman happened to get caught in the crossfire. Clint sat close to Wanda, probably murmuring things like “ _don’t take it personally_ ” or “ _he’s just a hard-ass_ ”. But when Thor entered the room with a grand bellow, everyone flicked their eyes in his direction or looked, bewildered, at Tony. But he could only offer a stare at the demi-god.

“When did you get in?”

It was hard to miss Thor’s arrival from Asgard. The ground shook and a flash of light brighter than the sun made you temporarily blind if you were unlucky enough to be looking out the window.

“Minutes ago, my friend. And I come with great news!” The huge man marched down the few steps, and gave Tony a hearty grip on his shoulder. “My people accept you as an earthly successor to my father’s kingdom. Your visit has renewed their hearts and they have immortalized you in stone.” Tony blinked. “This is very honorable, man of iron. Mortals are often regarded as weak and petty.” Thor paused, glancing at his neighboring friends. “Not that any of what is said, is the truth. If it is of any regard, you also gave me more reason to stay on Earth for longer durations. Asgardians are more understanding of my absences now.”

“Because…I can lift Mjolnir?”

“Yes, of course.” Thor spoke to him as though it was obvious. “No mortal has ever lifted the hammer. Odin has confirmed this. You are certainly not as worthy as I,” he smiled, “But one person out of billions on this planet? Surely that is good enough.”

“Oh, wow, thanks.” Tony bit out a laugh and began to collect his belongings on the table. He had only wielded Mjolnir twice and that was more than he ever wanted.

The first time was the most dramatic, for reasons Tony didn’t like dwelling on. It was an experience, most definitely, but one he’d just rather not endure again. He and the Avengers were at a remote Hydra base in Northern Russia, and up against an army of men who possessed the power of an infinity stone. They thought the facility was run by a skeleton crew, just another base in a throng of hundreds. No one was prepared for this particular building to be overrun with agents and experimental monsters. Tony ended up separated from most, blown away by a powerful and sudden explosion. In the deep snow and fallen debris, he saw the hammer, laying atop of a pile of rubble with Thor no where in sight. His comm was down, but before the fall he heard Clint say Thor was injured. And Nat. And Steve. Not thinking twice, he ignored the pain in his right shoulder and limped toward the hammer as a legion of agents crusted over the edge of a nearby hill. The moment his suited hand gripped Mjolnir, dark clouds enveloped the sky and a thick bolt of lightning crashed down on him and stayed.

Convinced it was the magic of the weapon and not him just going completely insane from the electric current that should have killed him, Tony saw a vision of the Norse gods. They were all there and somehow Tony knew them just as they knew him. Balder, Hoder, Tyr, Bragi, Heimdall, Vidar, Vali. Odin was in the middle, the most prominent, speaking in a tongue he couldn’t have known but understood. It was the chant of Mjolnir, of he who is worthy.

The next thing Tony remembered was wearing some tight, itchy metal armor that made him look as though he came out of a Greek Classic. He broke through the Hydra base, wielding Thor’s choice of weapon and nearly leveling the entire field and saving his teammates.

The second time Tony decided to help Thor out, the stakes weren’t that high and the demi-god had promised he wouldn’t be put through another magical costume change. He didn’t, but it _did_ confirm Thor’s beliefs that Tony could wield the hammer whenever, and that the first time wasn’t an isolated incident. The occasion called for Tony to visit Asgard, his “warrior spirit” making it easy to befriend Sif and Thor’s other close friends. He had met Odin, honored, and enjoyed an Asgardian feast with dance and drinks. Now _that_ he understood.

Really though, the entire “Tony can wield the hammer” was something Tony, himself, tried to sweep under the rug. He understood the big guy’s admiration, what he didn’t understand was what made him so worthy in the first place. The Vision could lift it, sure, but any time he brought that up, everyone’s immediate rebuttal was the fact that the man wasn’t even technically _a man_. The “ _rules were different_ ” they said, with “ _organic machines_ ”.

So what was different with him? Tony killed before, granted they were horrible people, but the logic still stands. Any kind of bloodshed seemed too extreme for the sensitive hammer. He wasn’t anywhere near as “great” as Steven Rogers; his morale just couldn’t compare. And the soldier could only budge the thing. Steve Freakin’ Rogers could only _nudge_ it. He tried to be a hero, a savior, but something told him that wasn’t the reason he passed the test.

At times, it felt as though something else was at work. Like the thing was just mocking him each time he picked it up, waiting for a devastating opportunity to stay glued to the ground rather than in his grip.

“I’m ignoring your sarcasm,” Thor quipped, “And will gather a few belongings before visiting Jane. Barton, do you know if my friend Dr. Selvig is here?”

“Uh, yeah,” the archer leaned back on the couch. “Second floor, in the labs probably.”

“Thank you. I will be with Jane for the duration of my visit. If danger arises-”

“-then we’ll call ya,” Clint said. “Assuming Wanda here can’t hold her own.”

The young woman beside him gave a weak smile. With a subtle flick of a finger, the foot rest slid back a few inches and Clint jolted forward, loosing his footing.

\- - -

Four days later, Tony woke up from rain hitting his living room window.

He didn’t make it to the bedroom the night prior, his lethargic limbs wobbling by the time he managed to get through the front door. The good thing about living alone, up on Stark manor, was the lack of neighbors. There was no one to complain about his outings and goings at peculiar hours of the night. No one to worry about if another terrorist would find _this_ house and blow it to pieces.

Tony rubbed his eyes, stretching, before walking like a zombie to the back door to let Junior run outside for his morning piss and hunt. He watched, amused, as the black Labrador sprinted outside and paused to sniff at the air. He didn’t like the rain, but Tony hoped he’d want to stay outside long enough for him to put pants on.

The pup was a break-up gift from Pepper, as though that was a completely normal thing, a few months after their actual break up. “ _I’m worried about you_ ,” she had said, “ _You’re alone up there on that hill._ ” It was true. Tony didn’t live in the Stark Tower anymore, how could he if all he’d ever run into was Potts? And with his house in Malibu still under construction (and with the entire world knowing where that location was), the man found solace in his father’s old place in New York. It was a little ways out of the city, but it offered something he hadn’t experienced in a while. Serenity.

As he moseyed up the stairs, he could hear the pup bark; probably at some falling leaves or rabbits. The only thing the mutt could do was whine, and somehow tear apart his latest project.

Tony half-heartedly showered, dried and ruffled his hair in a damp towel. When he finished tugging on some worn denim, there was a knock on the door.Tony glanced at the clock (7:46) and at himself (black shirt, bare feet) and deemed it okay to answer. Another great thing with the new residence was the fact Tony could always guess who was at the door. He didn’t get visitors often. But when they did come, it was either Pep or Rodney.

To feel important, and for what they say to have gravity, Tony knew they liked the personal house call opposed to the time-saving telephone. No worry about insecure lines, mistaken identity. Plus, Tony’s place was like the ideal, luxurious safe house; away from civilization and unsuspecting. Like if Clint’s family farm got a billion dollar upgrade.

Hearing another set of knocks, he walked down the steps with a little more vigor, but his adrenaline spiked when he opened the door.

Steve Rogers sat on his knees, petting Junior as the attention-whore went crazy with whines and a chaotic tail. The dog couldn’t decide to sit or stand as the man rubbed its ears and stroked its belly. Tony watched the odd spectacle on the porch. The soldier wasn’t wearing his uniform and he was taking the time to enthusiastically embrace his dog, so this wasn’t business. Hm.

Introduced to Captain America on the battlefield, he had the inkling the soldier was up-tight all the time. Only when they started seeing each other around at the Tower, Tony realized the media (and at one time, his father) weren't sensationalizing “America’s Golden Boy”, the “Perfect Boy Scout”, the “Star Spangled Man”. He was a good soldier when donning the uniform, and outside of it always a “good man“, but a bit more awkward, and sarcastic. Tony grew to love the man’s company actually, and he allowed the occasional improper fantasy of his father’s best friend.

“I thought I kept this address off SHIELD records.”

“You did,” Steve stood. “Howard didn’t, though. And he used the public records.”

“Phone books. Very vintage. But look who I’m talking to.”

Steve continued to pet Junior, the dog somehow suppressing the urge to jump and instead tried to press itself against the soldier. The poor thing didn’t get visitors.

“Wanna come in?”

There was a chill in the air for an early June morning, the rain unrelenting.

“Sure. Thanks. Sorry for the impromptu-” Steve followed the man inside, realizing he recognized this place from pictures Howard had shown him during the war. The style was still the same; expensive and nice to look at, but the décor was a lot more modern. And a bit more messy. Tony would probably never hire another housekeeper after Potts.

But it was nice. Tony’s house. A stone mansion on the top of a hill. He’d be lying if he said he couldn‘t enjoy a place like this. Away from cities. From the trouble and danger. Just sitting on a porch with a cold drink and quiet mind.

Tony turned around when he got to the kitchen’s doorway, watching as Steve scanned the living room.

“-…uh, early visit.”

“It’s fine.” He smirked. “I’m awake. And I’m sure _Captain America_ always has a good reason to risk some rudeness.”

Junior continued to stand beside Steve, nuzzling his hand. Tony had the animal for two months, but already the thing seemed to be in love with the soldier more than it ever worshiped him. Go figure, man’s best friend. _No dog-owner is safe from the friendly Captain_.

“Do you eat breakfast?” He opened a few cabinets, tearing the wrapper off a snack bar for himself. “I have bars, cereal, uh…some eggs?”

“Already ate,” he called.

“Yeah, figured as much.” Tony returned to the living room and looked at him like he was crazy, gesturing for him to sit as he did the same. “I’m sure you already jogged 500 miles and saved the world twice.”

“And I’m sure you thought of three more ways to take me down while I do it.”

Tony took another bite of the granola, remembering their not-so-little sparring match the other day. He took a low blow to win. There were some hard feelings, but Tony assumed all was forgiven. He was going against a super soldier, after all. “Still sore about that?”

“Hard not to be.” Steve’s smile dropped when he realized his friend was put-off by the comment. “But that’s good. I mean, _you’re_ good.”

Tony cocked his head. “This isn’t a social call. Something has happened.”

He sighed. “You might be in danger.”

“Steve, I’m always in danger.”

“No. Not Tony Stark, _billionaire genius_. You, Warrior Stark who can lift Mjolnir.”

“Oh, Christ.”  _Of course_ , Tony thought. Save the world using an alien-friend’s hammer and everything goes to shit.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Thor reported some disturbing incidents on his home world. His father is acting strangely. It could be unrelated, but he contacted me at base earlier this morning. He doesn’t think it’s imperative for any action yet. He just wanted you to know.”

“Know what?”

“That your ability to use the hammer may cause an uprising on Asgard.”

“Oh.” Tony pinched his nose. “Well. That’s just great. I wonder why the change of heart.”

“Thor isn’t sure. He’s not even sure if there is one. But if it gets bad, I suggest you avoid any Asgardians.”

“They’d come _here_?”

The rain began to roar outside. It felt more and more like a stormy night rather than a cloudy Wednesday morning. Maybe Tony would just go back to bed. The longer he stayed awake, the more he realized it was a mistake.

“If Thor’s gate keeper is overwhelmed. Yes.”

“Avoid iron-glad gods and never pick up his hammer again, got it. I’ll just tack it all on my list.” Tony rubbed his eyes, feeling some puffiness. He didn’t care. For months he had been wrestling with his emotions in regards to the super soldier, sometimes not knowing why he resisted the urge and other times (most of the time) knowing he’d be insane and foolish to act on the silly crush. Captain America was everything he wasn’t. A childhood daydream. And the soldier came with baggage he couldn’t comprehend how to ever handle. Most importantly, it was dangerous to have interests in their profession. Ask Wanda. Thor. Bruce. Tony liked to think the Captain had similar feelings; he caught the way the man stared, the times he stammered over words, him always the one Tony somehow ran into at the Facility. But Tony also knew nothing would ever happen between them. It would be too surreal and they were both too attached to their purpose. Being in an any kind of relationship other than teammates would complicate things.

Tony knew they both liked simple.

Looking down, Tony watched Junior laying by Steve’s pressed khakis and polished shoes. A strong hand lazily stroked the top of its head. Nimble fingers slowly itched at Junior’s ears. Light hairs covered part of Steve’s arm that peeked from a jacket’s sleeve. The same light hairs that matched the man’s eyelashes. A natural blonde. He rubbed his eyes again.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Just tired still.”

Steve laughed, recalling the news. “Yeah, heard about last night. Do you ever have a normal day?”

“Once. Maybe.” Tony stood, shaking his head of suddenly inappropriate thoughts. Why did the golden boy bring out the worse of him? He felt like he couldn’t go within 40 feet of a school after picturing Rogers wearing nothing but his shield.

“Well, maybe we can change that sometime.” Steve straightened too, adjusting his jacket and taking a deep breath. “We could go out. Catch a movie. Or dinner. Pretty sure Coney Island is still around. We could do that.”

Tony looked at the man in his living room, close to asking him to repeat what he said. It was Rogers himself who said anything normal wasn’t meant for him anymore. That now it was just Captain America. They played the game well, both side-stepping over their feelings for each other and just keeping the status quo. This was playing awfully close to the chest, however.

Tony exhaled through his nose. “Just a normal day with the Captain, eating popcorn and watching a seven o’clock viewing of _Jurassic World_.”

“How about a normal day with Steve Rogers? I’ll leave the tights at home if you do.”

Tony regarded him, closely. The soldier was serious. “Yeah. That sounds…ordinary. Can’t say I know a date on my calendar though.”

“That’s fine. I don’t know when I’m available either.”

They exchanged conversation as they headed toward the front door, the rain more like the beginnings of a global waterfall than what the weather channel called “light showers”.

“We’ll just put the day on hold until we find time to hang up the tights.” Tony stared out the door. “Thanks for coming over. And, you know, informing me of this potentially irritating situation.”

“I figured Thor could have told you himself when you got in. But-” He shrugged.

“-you just love seeing me in my morning best.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Steve muttered, joking, and headed out the door. There was a spring his step. Steve Rogers underwent the super soldier experiment over seventy years ago, yet he still seemed to be that scrawny boy who just managed to score a date. As Tony watched the man walk back to his car, eyeing the soldier’s stature, he couldn’t help but feel the same. Maybe they couldn’t date, ever. Maybe it was too dangerous to even say, “ _hey, I think like you_.” But when they would ever hang up the cowl, if the world would ever stop needing them, then maybe they could have a normal life. Normal with each other. But that was a pretty big _if_.

Steve Rogers turned back around, waving goodbye as he stepped into his car. Tony lifted a hand. When his car was out of sight, the man closed the door completely and scowled at his reflection on a decorative mirror. He looked like he had a wild night. Even after the shower. And energy drinks.

Infiltrating a crime boss’s hideout and taking down more than forty men armed with flamethrowers wasn’t just unhealthy for the city. It was also wearing Tony down too.

\- - -

“You can close up shop, FRIDAY. I’m done here.”

“ _Of course, sir. The elevator is waiting to take you to the garage_.”

Tony locked the laboratory door, watching as the lights automatically went out inside and the computer monitors went to sleep. It was a long day, bringing about more trouble than he had originally thought. What didn’t his mind think about as he tinkered with layouts and the new cooling unit’s blueprints? For most of the afternoon he was consumed with the problem on the northern docks, mentally trying to pinpoint which warehouse, from memory, would be the most likely candidate for uninvited criminals of the _Ten Rings_. By evening, it was the Captain’s visit from that morning and how he waved to him like a schoolboy. Showing off his perfect muscle and white smile. By eight, his mind shifted back to the docks; connecting clues and forming theories.

Bruce Banner, a steadily-growing-more-concerned coworker, had called for him three times when he was intensely reading recent SHIELD reports on the problem.

_**Thor went back to Asgard. Any idea why?** _

Tony checked for text messages as he walked into the parking garage under Stark Tower, grimacing. Ever since news spread of his ability (or, dare he say _worthiness_ ) to lift the hammer, it was as though people were suddenly considering him a damn Asgardian. Him and Thor were not best friends. They didn’t tell each other secrets or their daily schedule every night, whispering over the phone like little girls.

_**Nope.**_ Tony texted Hill back. _**Try Foster?**_

“Because, you know, she’s actually dating the blond?” Muttering to himself, Tony walked towards his car and mentally prepared for the drive home. It’d be a long night. _Get home. Feed Buster, no wait, Junior. Suit up. Docks. Possible gunfire party. Go back home by 2:00ish with, ideally, minimal injuries. Slap down some drinks. Easy. Ha._

\- - -

Tony pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine.

With a grime-ridden face, he gently turned his head to read the digital clock on the dashboard. _3:02AM_. The small individual lines gave off a faint glow, filling the front of the car with a sickly green color that Tony couldn’t help but just stare at. There was something oddly comforting about a blank mind and allowing yourself to just sit like an empty vessel.

He got the information he was looking for. It was a productive night. He sent the identity of the drug lord known as _Snake Eye_ to Agent Hill, as well as the interesting tidbit of information that this man was selling his fear-inducing drugs to Hydra affiliates. If they wanted Stark to clean up the mess, he would. Eventually. But for now, them knowing was more than enough. Tony was ready to call it a night.

Light drizzle misted his face, but Tony welcomed the horrid weather that lasted all day. He shut the car door, not bothering to park in the garage. The car needed a good wash. He trekked up the marble steps, taking his time, but paused when he reached for the door handle.

Something was wrong. It took him just a moment to realize what. Junior was not barking. He always barked. Three in the morning or afternoon, it didn’t matter. His ears always picked up Tony’s car; any car really. The road to the mansion was driven so rarely, the last time it was paved his father had commissioned it. Any noise was like a fire alarm. Tony glanced around the porch, finding nothing out of place. He quietly stepped back from under the roof, looking at the upstairs windows. There were no misplaced shadows or lights.

Silently, Tony headed back and slowly opened the front door. There was an odd quiet to the house. No dog came running from the upstairs. And, guilty like any dog owner, the soft music of a radio was also nonexistent. The stillness to the air was ominous. It made him more nervous than stepping into any abandoned factory or villain’s lair ever could. Like a trained agent, he crouched down to drop his keys without an inkling of sound. He breathed slower, muscles tensing; ready for a fight. He fought the instinct of calling for Junior, knowing whatever else lurked inside would hear him too. He had the element of surprise, unless the mugger was waiting for him. Then this was just a game.

How did the invader get past the security system? He was Tony-fucking-Stark. If anything, it was embarrassing.

He took one silent step, eyeing part of the kitchen that was visible and down the darkened hallway. Nothing seemed out of place. Intuition told him to look up.

Softly, he went up the stairs. The place was traditional, old, but in good shape. There were no creaks to the polished wood, no groans that gave away his location. He crept upward, undetected like a ghost in an attic. At the top, he paused again to just scan the area. The hallway looked barren of any danger. Photo frames were still in place, no doors were ajar. Tony turned right and opened each door. The bathrooms were empty. Just soaps and shampoos welcomed him behind the shower’s glass. The study rooms were also vacant. Just as he began to feel silly of all this, thinking that maybe Junior had just gotten outside and had yet to return, Tony stepped into the spare bedroom.

\- - -

Steve Rogers grabbed his shield as he ran down the hallway, hanging up his phone after alerting Hill of the situation. She would be faster at signaling the others. And he was right. By the time he traveled to the sublevel of the facility and entered the hanger, Romanoff and Wilson were already by the jet.

“Are we sure it’s him?” The woman asked, watching as Rogers opened the aircraft’s back and went inside.

“We’re sure.” He answered. The soldier flipped on various switches in the cockpit. “Did anyone contact Stark?”

“Yeah, but he’s already tied up in the city.” Clint ran onto the jet, carrying his arrows and a pair of pants. Half his suit was on, the other half grey sweatpants and slippers. “What?” He gave Nat a look, “Some of us sleep at 2:30 in the morning.”

“He’s okay? You talked to him?” Steve confirmed, looking up from the aircraft’s monitor.

“Yeah,” the archer replied, understanding the situation. If this guy was on Earth, not dead and possibly sore about the Stark’s ability to life the hammer, then he may be looking for the man. “Hill said he’d met up with us after something with that Russian group.”

“Thor still back home?” Wilson bucked himself in.

“He’s been notified.” Steve answered, nodding to their last arrival. “But don’t count on him coming right away.”

“Why?” Wanda took a seat beside Natasha.

“His father is dead.”

 

Loki’s signature was spotted with SHIELD’s constant tracking system back at the facility. Hill was in California dealing with a problem, but she found the time to alert the rest of the crew of the bizarre news. It was traced to southern Canada of all places, in a remote location where an abandoned Hydra base used to be before the Avengers took it down a few years prior. Law enforcement was meant to oversee the area and hire construction crews to demolish the haunting building, once filled with unethical experiments and weapons testing. But when the jet landed a few hundred feet away, the team realized nearly nothing changed. It looked how it did when the Avengers left the site once defeating the agents inside.

“Good to know people are eager to forget this ever happened.” Wilson pursed his lips.

“No wonder he’s here.” Natasha pulled on gloves to counter the chilly weather. “This base is probably active again. We’re gonna have to recheck all previous dead Hydra branches after this.”

Wanda exited the jet without a word, her hands already red from the memory of being taken advantage of from these people. She had only heard stories of this Loki. She was eager to fight magic with a little of her own.

“We enter the building from multiple sides. Falcon, take to the skies and survey the area. Widow, I want you on my left. Barton, my right. Maximoff, my side.” Steve directed his team. “We do this fast. Get inside, locate the bastard, wait for us to regroup.”

“Sounds good,” Wilson nodded, extending his wings and purposely gained distance away from the others before lifting off the ground. Both Clint and Natasha went their separate directions. The base was unsettling at night, nearing three o’clock in the morning in the winterish atmosphere. No sounds other than their own soft footsteps were heard in the cracked corridors. Maximoff used her kinetic abilities to light the area around her hand with minimal light.

“ _Cap, the signature is in the middle of our scout. We’re going to surround him on upper decks if we continue the route_.”

“Stay on course.” Steve instructed. Surrounding the man was ideal.

“ _Y o u    n a i v e    m o r t a l s_ .”

Wanda stopped at the forbidding voice that echoed through the dark hallway, but Steve kept walking. He made a quiet gesture. They were close to the foyer.

The demi-god stood in his royal green robes on a metal platform down below, eyeing the rotting corpses of his fallen alien army held behind thick glass chambers. No doubt the cadavers were used in Hydra experiments to understand the alien race. Steve looked at his team on the rafters, each surrounding Thor’s half-brother on every side and a good two stories above him. “Loki. You’re supposed to be serving a life sentence on Asgard.” The Captain called. Really, the man was supposed to be dead. But Steve didn’t feel like asking about that. This was the god of mischief, after all. Able to fool even his own brother. “Why have you come here?”

Clint tightened the bow in his grip, an arrow aimed at the man’s head. Natasha cocked a gun, readied the electric currents running through her suit. Wanda wasn’t shy to redden her eyes and have crimson currents swirling in her hands. Falcon stood, fists clenched and ready.

Bitter laughter filled the auditorium and Loki turned to finally look up at the soldier with a smug smile. “Isn’t it obvious? I came to this pathetic little rock for one reason, Captain, and I came here, to this wretched excuse of an organization’s base, for only a component of that purpose. Would you like to know what that reason is?”

Steve grabbed his shield from his back and jumped over the ledge of the platform. He landed a few feet away from the demi-god, denting the metal floor below him with his weight. “Don’t really care, to be honest. I just want you gone. You don’t belong here. You belong on Asgard, answering for your crimes and for what you’ve done to your own father.”

Loki face contorted. “ _He was never my father_. You will not speak about matters that don’t pertain to you!”

An emerald blast of light escaped his outstretched hand. As Rogers dodged the rage-enduced attack, the other Avengers quickly sprung to action and attempted to subdue the villain. But when Wanda’s magic caused the demi-god to evaporate into the air, there was an ominous, disembodied laughter surrounding them.

“He…he wasn’t real.” The young woman furrowed her brow. “I do not understand.”

“It was a decoy.” Natasha confirmed. “For what?”

Steve slung his shield against his back, staring at the ground. Thinking. “Barton, you’re sure Maria spoke to Tony?”

“Yeah. I mean,” He placed his bow and arrow by his side, relaxing. “She just said Tony was busy.”

“But she _spoke_ to him?”

“Yeah. What are you getting at here?”

“We’re going back to New York. Right now.” Steve unbelted his helmet and ripped it off in frustration. “We need to warn Stark. Loki’s here for him.”

“ETA is sixty minutes Cap. Give or take with the weather.”

“Then we keep calling Tony until he picks up. And anyone at the Facility. He’s in danger. And I’ve been careless.”

No one else thought it wise to continue talking. Their Captain seemed more on edge than they had ever seen him.

\- - -

Tony dashed into the room. In the far corner was a blob of fur, Junior, slowly breathing and emitting a very quiet whine. He fell to his knees, confusion overcoming him, and he stroked the dog with a gentle hand, feeling spots of blood. He couldn’t tell what was wrong or what happened. There was no evidence of an attacker other than his injuries.

“Junior,” he whispered, “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” His face crinkled when he got a better look at the damage. “Hey- it’s…yeah, that’s a good boy. It’s okay.” The whining dog nuzzled his hand with closed eyes. “It’s….”

“We can learn a lot from the wild things.” Tony whipped his head around and found a tall man he thought he’d never see again.

The man stood, looming, in the doorframe with green robes and shining golds. Hair was long and black, eyes as cold as a demon.

He glanced at his dying pet. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Pity is useless. For yourself and for others. Life will always go on, whether you live or die. If you’re happy or unhappy. Life doesn’t care. Ruthlessness, now _that’s_ an useful emotion. Animals are ruthless. Gods are ruthless. I am ruthless. That is part of my power. To do what I deem is right, consequences or deaths of innocents be damned.”

Hot fury rose to Tony’s cheeks and he stood.

“Your pet didn’t feel sorry for himself, Tony. He came right for me. He knew I was here for you, and he ran toward me without thinking twice. He was going to kill me to save you. How many of your machines would have done the same? Your animal is dead because he loved you.”

Tony charged at the man, but a sudden and invisible wave of force pushed him back. His shoes slid on the carpet. Fists clenched. This wasn’t just an ordinary man. He possessed an unfair advantage and Tony was already off his game by not being prepared in the slightest. This was bad.

“Many people do, I’ve come to discover. You’re the Avenger’s golden goose. The warrior who can subdue the Hulk and befriend even the coldest of assassins.” He looked at Tony, lazily gesturing with his hand, bored. “The mere mortal who can lift my brother’s hammer and have Asgard at your feet, while I, the _true_ heir to the throne, received  _nothing_.”

This was unbelievable. Tony felt as though his head was about explode from the intensity of his emotions. This fucker killed his dog because of the Avengers? Because he felt threatened of his ability to lift a goddamn hardware appliance?

Tony learned his lesson the first time; don’t attack with blind rage. Instead, he performed a series of motions that all lasted in less than two seconds. He leaned to the side, swatting the dresser top and forcing a small box of tissues in front of Loki’s surprised face. He lunged then, using the tissues as a distraction so he could land a powerful blow just below Loki’s diaphragm. Although he was alien, the man looked to have a human anatomy. By punching the diaphragm, he would wheeze uncontrollably and try to scrape in any air he could.

Loki did wheeze. For a second. As Tony went in for another blow, Loki disappeared. He whirled his head around, battle ready, but the alien wasn’t anywhere in the room. The only sound was the quiet, painful breaths of the dog. It was only until Tony glanced at the dresser’s attached mirror did he see the man directly behind him, his biting eyes boring into his reflection. Tony turned, throwing a fist at the man but found himself slammed into the floor on his back. For a thin individual, he possessed immense strength. _Alien. Right._

“Do you really believe a gazelle can overpower a lion?” The man smiled, looking down at Tony. “Nature is against you.”

Loki was stronger, faster, and had far more experience in the magic game. All facts glaring before the billionaire’s eyes as he found himself slammed face first into a wall. Once, twice, and then a third time. His vision blurred, his ears rang, he was dazed and panting, tasting the salt of blood on his tongue. He didn’t have his suit to give him cushion from the blow, his helmet couldn’t protect his skull from the constant hits as it laid in a suitcase, beat up, in his car. He had no other suits at the mansion. And he didn’t expect something like this happening, as he used most of his energy earlier that night. Loki couldn’t have picked a better time to kill him.

Tony continued to try. He tried to dodge a few blows and give out some of his own. He threw up some decorative blankets from the base of the guest bed, distracting Loki to try to get another hit in but he remembered from last time. Glass shattered when Loki grabbed Tony by the shirt and pushed him against it. Shards pricked and sliced his skin. When Loki lifted him by the shirt’s collar, he used the newfound freedom of his weightless legs and went for a hit in the groin. Thankfully he was like Captain America in that aspect too (as Tony found out in the boxing ring) because Loki dropped him and grunted.

“ _Get_ -” Tony landed another solid hit to his stomach. “ _the fuck_ -” He slammed entwined fists to his crouched-over head. “ _ **Out of my house**_!”

Just when he was going to land the final blow, Loki sprung up and caught him by the neck. At least he got in a few good blows of his own. That he could be proud of. Bruising, marking the demi-god who prided himself on being so great. Loki flipped him around. He forced the man back into a wall. Tony heard his nose crunch. A hand fisted his hair. It pulled and twisted cruelly until the pressure drew a sudden shriek. Hot breath made his neck shiver and Loki pressed close to him, keeping him pinned against the wall.

“I understand what they see in you, Iron Avenger.” He said against Tony’s ear, catching his breath. “You’re like a Black Widow, Captain, and Thor all in one beautiful package. Plus a mouth. But you have a weakness that is awfully easy to manipulate, despite your strength and cunning.” He dodged Tony’s head butt and leaned in closer. “You’re predictably human.”

He slammed Tony into the wall for a fifth time, using his hair to pull his head back. Tony gasped each time he did this, small chunks of hair ripping out from the base of his skull. “You’re beautiful like this, Iron prince. Compliant and meek. Like the most alluring minx. It’s no wonder some put you in high regard. It will be a joy to watch you kneel for me.”

Tony was able to catch his breath. Using any remains of strength he had, he pushed off from the wall and sent the bastard flying onto the bed. Only this time Tony didn’t try to subdue him physically. He knew the best course of action was to get help. It was reserved for worse case scenarios. Tony would never admit this, but when you’re only choice was to run away, it was petrifying.

With a heavy heart, Tony bolted from the guest bedroom, leaving a dying Junior in there with the monster, and dashed down the hallway as he tried to collect his bearings. He just had to make it downstairs, to the godforsaken landline in the kitchen. There he could call SHIELD. Tell them anything, maybe just _“It’s Loki_ ” before the demi-god kills him. At least then they’d know who murdered him.

Tony leaped down the case of stairs, landing on the ground floor with a grunt. Blood from his nose dripped on the wood. When he entered the kitchen’s doorframe, a sharp pain hit right between his shoulders and Tony was knocked down to his knees. He didn’t know, nor care, what happened, even if there was a knife protruding from his back. Just a few more steps and he could reach the fucking phone. He felt blood on the back of his shirt, but no pain. Tony wasn’t sure if it was shock or if whatever injury there was only superficial.

He crawled across the kitchen floor, trying to move as fast as he could. Loki, standing behind him, snarled before kicking him over and on his back. Tony screamed, both in pain and in hopes someone would hear. But that was a long shot. They were alone out here. Loki kicked him again before settling a boot on his spasming chest. Tony hooked his ankle around the man’s leg and almost managed to trip him, but Loki crouched down anyway and pinned the man’s legs down with his weight.

As he opened his mouth to speak, Tony’s landline rang so loudly it gently shook the phone. Loki’s sharp eyes darted up to the telephone rattling a few feet above Tony’s head. The name which appeared in small black letters made him smile. Before the other man could react, Loki pressed a hand over his mouth.

Tony buckled, squirmed. An odd sensation made his lips tingle and his mouth feel like cotton balls were stuffed inside. Only seconds passed before Loki lifted his hand and reached for the phone. Tony’s face felt numb. It felt like pins and needles were prodding his neck. Weak, he watched as the man lifted himself just a bit to lift the phone off its receiver. Tony looked, in disbelief, as Loki pressed the phone to his ear with a wicked smile.

“ _Tony? Hello_?”

“S-Steve?” Tony said, but he could only stare at Loki as he stayed seated on top of him. Tony’s mouth wasn’t working, it couldn’t have been. These were not his words. They were _Loki’s_.

“ _Christ, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Where are you_?”

“I’m answering the landline, Steve.” Tony chuckled, _chuckled_. His eyes widened at the situation. This wasn’t good. He wasn’t able to tell Rogers anything. His mouth, his fucking voice wasn’t his own anymore. “I’m at home.”

“ _And you’re okay_?”

“Yes. Why? Should I not be?”

“ _Loki isn’t dead. He killed Odin and he’s here. He just sent my team on a wild goose chase. I thought he might be after you. Can you come to the Facility_?”

_Jesus Christ, Steve, help me. Come to my house. Realize what the fuck is happening. Loki is here. He’s right here_. Tony, instead, could only spit out, “Right now? I just got back from a run. Let me grab a few things first, and I’ll-”

“ _Tony, listen to me. This is dangerous_.” Steve’s voice sounded so worried, frenzied. Tony wanted nothing more than to tell him he’s right. To beg him to come here and help. But now, through all the racing thoughts in his head, now all he wanted was just to tell the Captain he’d love to take him up on that normal day. “ _I’m coming over. My ETA is about sixty minutes. Confirm for me you’ll be there_.”

“I’ll be here. Don’t worry, Cap. I have security. Junior. Over eight months of combat training with Nat-”

Steve’s laughter filled the line. “ _Yeah, yeah. Me and Natasha. Got it. See you in sixty, seventy_.”

Loki placed the phone back on the hook before looking down at Tony with a triumphant smile. The bastard won. By calming down the Captain, he’d take his time getting to the mansion. Sixty minutes was probably well over the time limit it’d take for Loki to torture and kill him. And besides sending Rogers into a panic and having him send SHIELD agents over within 10, 15 minutes, everything was fine. Normal. No red flags sprung into the air. Tony wanted to kill this man, brother to Thor or not.

“Thank you for being so cooperative.” Loki smirked. He then grabbed a fistful of Tony’s hair once again and when he lifted himself off of him, Tony unwillingly followed.

He screamed and buckled, trying to grab into anything close by to either hinder the man’s walking or stop his own body from being dragged. Fingernails chipped along doorways and close walls. When Loki reached the stairs he grabbed both his hair and an upper arm, using immeasurable strength to easily haul him up every step and into the hallway.

“Fucking miserable fuck-!” Tony shouted again, feeling more chunks of hair leave his head. Every time his back thudded against the floor he grunted, feeling small remains of the mirror digging their way deeper into his flesh. His shoes left scuffmarks on the polished floorboards. When he realized they were entering his bedroom, he tried desperately to cling to the outer doorframe, his eyes hooked down the hall and into the still-lit guest bedroom. Junior was still in there. He had probably died alone.

Loki gave one final yank and Tony fell into his bedroom. The door quickly slammed shut and audibly locked from Loki’s magic. Hands flew up to his hair when the man finally let Tony go, but Tony was too frazzled and dazed to do anything other than make sure half his scalp was still intact. The demi-god circled him, hands clasped behind his robes.

“What….do you…want?” Tony gasped, rolling onto his side. He tried to lift himself up, but Loki simply nudged him back down with his boot.

“For everyone to know.” He answered in a low tone. Tony tried to quiet his breathing to listen. He didn’t actually think Loki would say anything, much less give an answer. “To know that I’m far more superior than a mere mortal.” Tony tried to lift himself back up. Loki didn’t stop him this time. He watched the pathetic endeavor. “That I am the rightful heir. That I am better than those Avengers. With you, I get both messages across. Lovely, isn’t it?” He crouched down in front of the struggling man, eager to get this show started. “And do you know the best way to prove that truth? To have everyone know who has claimed whom?”

Tony stared at the carpet as he pulled himself upright with his elbows, subtly eyeing the thin metal strip under his bed’s mattress. It was the prototype of the headband, the one that made Scarlet Witch unable to read his mind. It must have fallen there after a restless night. Maybe it could work with Loki’s magic.

“Come. Let me show you.”

Before Tony could grab the metal lining, Loki lifted him up and threw him on the bed. Tony immediately lunged off the mattress, purposely tossing his body on the other side of the room and, in a last ditch attempt, tried to open a window. Loki managed to grab him, as predicted, and pinned him to the wall right beside the curtains. He held the man in place by applying his weight against his, and grabbed each side of his head with his hands. Tony thrashed. His feet didn’t touch the floor so they fruitlessly kicked the air.

An odd but soft buzzing noise filled his ears. Loki’s hands were ice cold, something he didn’t realize earlier, and they applied pressure to his head as though he was trying to smash it like a watermelon. Tony’s thoughts began to mesh and run together. From complete sentences to fragments to nothing but a word that popped into his head. Then, eventually, nothing. Just an awful, grey, buzzing noise that seemed to have cleared everything out; likes, dislikes, memories, personality, opinions. It was replaced by a bubble in his mind that didn’t belong, but was inserted there. It grew and grew and Tony tried to make it go away, make it smaller. But it just grew larger until it popped.

Tony stopped thrashing in Loki’s grip. His legs went limp and his hands that tried to fend off the man’s invading touch dropped to his sides. Tony tried to get the cold hands off of him by shaking his head, but his body would not respond. Similar to what had happened in the kitchen, Tony’s entire body had pins and needles overcome it, then eventually a strong numbness. It reached from his toes to his forehead, a thick anesthetized-feeling that made Tony panic. If Loki was capable of stealing his voice, forcing to him to say things that weren’t true, what’s to stop the man from stealing the right to his body as well? He could make him do anything. Get information. Kill others.

Loki stepped away when Tony stopped his protests. He studied the man’s eyes for a moment, noting the subtle change of color from dark brown to a dull grey. The man of Iron was precious like this, perfect even.

Yes, he could see the appeal of this human. The warrior who gave Asgard hope, who found his place within the Avengers and was welcomed with open arms. He would make sure no one would want Tony after he was done with him.

“What-”

“Ah-ah,” Loki waved his pointer finger and immediately Tony’s mouth closed. A glimmering trail of faint sliver light left Tony’s forehead and swirled around and into Loki’s finger. “You shall not speak again. I think that is only deserving for the trouble you’ve caused me.”

Tony wanted to deck him. Hit right into his throat so he didn’t have to hear that taunting voice. But his body wouldn’t let him. Only his eyes could move and his chest expand during each intake of breath. Loki would torture him now. Slowly kill him as Tony could only watch and endure the pain until it reached the breaking point. His friends would find him, Steve would find him, dead and mangled. He’d feel guilty. Overcome with grief, thinking it was all his fault. The damn soldier.

“Now, step away from the wall.”

Tony glared at him, feeling his feet step forward without hesitation. His muscles were not his own. He still had his mind, but that wasn’t showing mercy. Loki wanted Tony to be alone with his thoughts and know who was doing this to him. An empty vessel wouldn’t nearly be as satisfying as a victim who was forced to submit.

Loki discarded his heaviest robe with a quick flourish, it dropping to the ground. He strode closer to the shorter male, looming, watching as Tony’s fingers twitched and his mouth struggled to open. His throat spasmed. He was trying so desperately to move and speak, though his face didn’t show the strain. Loki gently grasped a lock of hair by Tony’s ear, stroking it before pushing it back. He leaned in briefly to inhale the nervous scent. Making Tony uncomfortable was fun. But he wanted the man humiliated.

Loki extended a few fingers to lift Tony’s chin, making his eyes meet his that promised nothing forgiving. “Dispose your shirt.”

Staring at him, Tony’s hands grabbed the edges of his shirt and lifted the top up and over his head. The fabric fell to the floor.

“And the trousers.”

Again, his hands unbashfully unbuttoned the jeans and pulled the zipper down. He had to crouch and take off the shoes to completely get rid of the pants. They, too, joined the pile. Tony stood before Loki wearing only underwear, but his head was still high with unwavering eyes. This was a common interrogation tactic. Remove their clothes to make them feel exposed and vulnerable. He would have none of that.

But then Loki began to stroke Tony’s skin. A cold hand ran the length of his bare arm, tracing imperfections like old scars and small moles. He slid a finger along the pale collarbone, watching as goosebumps emerged. He traced the hips, the line of hair running down his abdomen, the outline of his lips. Tony’s breath hitched.

“Get on your knees and open your mouth.”

Tony’s knees immediately bent, but he looked down, fighting against the sudden command. _No, holy shit, hell no. What the fuck-_ His legs buckled, neither staying straight or bending. Magic was something Tony just didn’t understand. Everything was explainable. Or should be. But this? What caused Loki’s words and voice to make his limbs want to obey? His mind wasn’t gone. Where was the link here? Could anything the magician do be explained? He had just witnessed the man extract his voice with a flick of his finger.

“On your knees.” He commanded with more vigor.

Tony’s legs went down so hard an audible crack was heard. He breathed rapidly, using as much energy as he could to pull himself out of this position and just fucking jump out the window. But his strength was useless. His body wasn’t listening. It wasn’t his anymore. He glanced at the clock along the wall. He didn’t know when Rogers would get here, but he prayed a powerful kick would send the bedroom door across the room with a strong patriotic punch for Loki’s jaw to follow.

His hands stayed by his sides, pressing into the carpet as it was the only thing he could do. He felt Loki’s hand grabbing his sore scalp, pulling tender strands of hair to tilt his head back. He grunted, but all that came out was an exhale of air.

“Isn’t this easy?” He smiled. “This is the position you were made for. This is a mortal’s place. This is _your_ place, Ironman. Never think it is anywhere else.”

Tony glared at him, his breathing still erratic as he continued to try to budge his unmovable muscles. He glanced at his bed, under it, considering his chances of breaking the fucking magic and lunging for the headpiece. The odds weren’t great.

Loki watched, amused, as he cradled Tony’s head in his hand and used his other to reach for his pants opening. Tony looked right ahead, realizing that the man was only inches away from his face. Or, rather, the man’s crotch was inches away. _No way_. Impossible. There was just no possible fucking way. His eyes increased in size. If he could, his head would thrash. His mouth would scream, shout a stream of vulgarities as if his parents had been sailors.

Loki shifted his various garments until the strap of his black pants loomed in front of Tony. He watched the billionaire’s face faintly tremble, watched as his eyes followed his slender fingers to undo the strap and allowed the leather to slide down just enough. Tony’s breathing picked up even more. Sweat beaded his forehead, the top of his chest, under his knees. He tried to exert as much strength as possible to move his body, but he couldn’t even wiggle a damn toe without Loki’s consent.

Loki exposed himself to the air, his dick already hard and pointing at the object it wanted. Now Tony could confirm how similar alien anatomy was to humans. The cock looked normal enough, though it was large, pale, sickening. Tony continued to tense his muscles, to back his legs up and somehow break the magic trapping him on the ground in this awful stance. The cold hand tussling his hair pushed Tony forward. His lips ghosted the engorged tip, pre-cum already dripping out. This seemed to be the only part of the demi-god that was warm. Heat radiated off the length, Tony’s breathing took in a musky scent.

The buzzing sound grew louder inside his head, his ears throbbed. _Jesus Christ. Don’t fucking make me do this_.

“Go ahead, warrior.” Loki made a show of spacing his legs apart. “Take all of me.”

Tony glanced up at the smirking, smug face then back at the stiffening shaft. His mouth opened on its own, slowly, and he felt his head leaning toward the cock without the help of Loki’s hand. Tony’s own hand came up to gently grasp the length, and his mouth took the tip inside, saliva already dripping from the corners of his lips.

“Now, now. You like doing this. It’s in your nature to be subservient. Be more enthusiastic about your purpose.”

Tony’s mind short-circuited. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to please this man. Everything else seemed secondary. Loki felt the heat of Tony’s mouth first; something only mortals could do, how wonderful, and then the soft texture of his lips and tongue on the head of his dick. He knew humans couldn’t take all of him easily, but his magic touch made the man try his best. He watched as Tony pulled his mouth off his length, sliding his tongue down over the span of his cock. His dull eyes were closed now and he took the tip back into his mouth, cheeks glistening. Loki closed his own eyes, relishing in the wonderful sensations the man brought about.

“You were made for this.” Both hands found purchase in Tony’s bloody hair, lazily stroking and caressing. “Keep using your mouth. No teeth.”

That’s all Tony wanted to do. Just bite through his flesh and castrate the man. Somehow Loki could implant thoughts in his head, motivate him to suck, lick, and stroke like a wanton buxom. He felt his head nodding to the demi-god’s commands, dutifully sucking.

At the faithful ministrations, Loki pushed his hips toward Tony, causing him to gag as his cock moved against the back of Tony’s throat. His hands caressed Tony’s head, trailing down to his neck and leaving goosebumps in the skins wake. Tony adjusted his breathing and tried to relax his jaw as best he could to take most of the fucker. Just try to get him off as quickly as possible. He closed his eyes even tighter, trying to push out the thoughts of Loki being a master. Tony wasn’t a slave. He was Tony Stark. He was Ironman. This man was just obsessed with making a point.

He moved his hips rhythmically, fucking Tony’s face. Tony tasted drops of a bitter fluid. He didn’t want the taste to linger in hid mouth, but neither did he dare swallow the essence of this man. Tony continued to stimulate the area with his mouth and throat, working as best he could with the size and length that was probably bruising tender tissue. Tony managed to take in a little more of Loki and he was rewarded with a jerk of the man’s hips. He bent over the billionaire in an almost protective way, breathing harshly. He would come soon.

Loki held Tony in his grip, his chest spasming from the building sensation down below. He thrusted in and out, fucking the throat with little care of the person attached. Loki grunted, emitting the first pronounced sound, and faint black hairs itched Tony’s face as the man released a surge of liquid.

Tony sputtered, choking, trying to block the bitter fluid with his muscles and tongue.

“Swallow all of it.”

He did, drinking down everything and even licking the tip for the last remains. Every swallow was painful, burning his esophagus like the hottest spice.

Loki leaned away, taking his length out of the cavern with a quiet pop. He cleaned himself up, tucking his member back into his pants and readjusting his robes. Tony continued to stand on his knees, his eyes opening. Small amounts of white fluid began to crust on a corner of his lip. Loki made a show of looking at the clock on the wall before grabbing his discarded robe on the floor, patting it, then carefully placing it on a nearby dresser.

Tony watched the carefree movements, his own body shaking from rage and helplessness. With a smile, Loki walked around to the opposite side of the large bed, and reached under the mattress with eyes never breaking Tony’s. He lifted the skinny headpiece in the air, not even bothering to look at it as he snapped it in two. “I’m inside your mind, Anthony. Everything you know, I do as well. Your toys will not save you.”

Loki walked back around, casually sitting on the side of the bed closest to the billionaire, legs hitting the floor a foot or two away from Tony. Loki stared at the him, eyeing his boxers. “Touch yourself, Tony.”

Considering Tony’s circumstances, he gave Loki his best incredulous look. But the demi-god smiled and lifted a hand to reveal a faint trail of sliver encircling his finger.

“Touch yourself. Go ahead. I am curious as to how you mortal men get off.” A soft chuckle.

With a flick of his wrist, Tony’s knees separated further apart. His mouth opened, but no gasp was heard. His body acted on its own accord. He tried to get away from his possessed hands. They were lifeless to him, numb. One slid up his stomach and caressed his neck before sliding down, touching each nipple while the other clutched between his legs. Tony went from glancing, panicked, at his body to the smug man watching him from the bed.

He sat there, smiling, propping himself up with his hands against the mattress. His stare was unrelenting, resolute. All this was just a control trip, a power play.

With closed eyes, Tony felt a hand reach the edge of his underwear and dive down. His fingers grasped his shaft as his other hand continued to rake his nails along his skin.

“Do you close your eyes…” Loki drawled, “and imagine someone else?”

Tony looked over at him, panting. There were an unlimited amount of things he could shout at the man, but all he could manage was a pathetic and mouthed “ _fuck you_ ”.

“Oh, I’ve been inside your mind, Anthony. I know who it is you fantasize about. I must say, it isn’t that surprising. I was hoping for someone a little more shocking than the humble Captain.”

On the carpet, Tony’s hands were both between his legs. As two fingers entered him, the other set flicked the sensitive tip to build up an orgasm. Small traces of white began to coat the top. They kept working ruthlessly, and he arched his back and emitted a silent grunt. A hand occasionally traveled up to grab, pinch, caress the hairs on his chest and made his breathing more laborious.

“That’s it. Enjoy yourself, Iron Avenger.” The voice was low, velvety.

When three fingers entered his opening, he gasped in pain and pleasure. Pushing in and out, in and out made his hips rock and a wetness flow from his length even more. Tony’s eyes rolled, thighs spread further apart. A new sensation picked up and his hips bucked faster. His vision blurred. He felt his body moving.

Tony found his bloody back leaning against the bed, Loki’s legs on either side of him as he continued to finger himself. The man moved hair away from Tony’s sweaty forehead and the sides of his cheeks. Loki titled his head back so it rested close to his groin, but also so he could watch the beautiful expressions cross the other man’s face. Tony’s hands forcibly spread his legs as far as they could go, more fingers disappearing within him.

“Show me what it’s like when you reach release in this moral vessel.” Was Tony going nuts? Or was that truly his voice that said those words? Was Loki tricking him, using his mouth once more?

The fingers began to scissor inside him, sliding in and out in a steady but fast rhythm. There was a tightness, especially each time the fingers expanded.

“You’re not used to being touched here yet. How befitting a noble warrior.”

Tony thrusted inside himself, hitting a bundle of nerves that caused him to silently moan against his will. Possessed hands continued to grasp the cock, and the opening, his boxers completely shoved off his hips, legs, then finally his socked feet.

“Do you imagine the Captain touching you like this? Loving you with tender kisses without judgment? That you are truly deserving, worthy of something that good?”

Tony’s body sat up once again, his hands leaving the warmth between his legs and they traveled over his thighs and chest, the white liquid mixing with sweat. His hands - _were they even his anymore?_ \- massaged his sides and admired his stature. They touched everywhere; his ass, soft stomach, tracing lazy circles with the liquid on his fingers. They played with his nipples, pinching the pink skin and squeezing them until they felt sore.

Sitting back down, Tony bent his back and his hands continued to massage his chest and pinch sensitive spots. Legs still spread open, Tony tried to shout. _Stop this, stop this, break the fucking magic, just stop this_.

Loki pressed his boots against Tony’s sides, enjoying the heat that radiated off the skin. He looked at him. Although the billionaire was mentally pleading, screaming for him to stop, his face made him want to do the exact opposite. Slipping Tony’s hand within his entrance once more, Loki used Tony’s other to tilt his head back. He leaned down then to trap Tony’s lips into a scorching kiss. The other man instinctively tried to pull back, but the magic kept his body still and continued its ministrations. Teeth nipped his lips before biting down. A muted gasp allowed Loki to push his tongue into the warm mouth, tasting the remnants of his own flavor.

_Relax_ , the demi-god commanded Tony’s body, and after only a few seconds, he did just that. Like an easy harlot, Tony eased into the man’s touch and even pressed his mouth against the other for added pressure. Loki felt the vibrations in Tony’s chest that told him he was moaning. When he ended the kiss and drew back, Loki examined the man.

His lips were bloody, marked with teeth. It matched areas of his head and back. Although any normal person would be in pain, the picture Tony created an image of pure ecstasy. His mouth was open in silent whimpers, his eyes rolling or closed as his hips bucked. His orgasm built throughout his body, beginning to radiate and his toes curled.

Tony couldn’t catch his breath. Everything felt too good. Impossibly good. But when his fingers picked up speed and the intensity picked up ten-fold, Loki said, “Stop.”

Frustration. Fury. Indignation. Confusion and violation. A wide range of emotions coursed through Tony as his fingers slipped out from his opening and both hands stilled by his side. He felt disgusting, sweat and wetness covering his body as the taste of Loki’s serpent tongue lingered on his own.

Still behind him, Loki stood and walked around to crouch before Tony and met his eyes on an even level. Somehow -Tony took a wild guess and assumed fucking magic- the man had disposed the rest of his armor, wearing absolutely nothing but a thick black shirt with skinny golden borders. With a pathetically delicate nudge, Tony fell to his side and landed on the carpet. Almost immediately Loki straddled him, using icy fingers to caress his skin and reinforce the numbness there.

That familiar buzzing sound invaded his ears, but Tony continued to fight back. He tried to shake his limp head, thrash his arms wildly. But when he tried his legs, something snapped. Something lifted from the base of Tony’s skull and it felt as though a thick rope ripped. Tony kicked the bastard off him, catching Loki in the stomach with his knees then feet, projecting him off his body. Loki hit the wall opposite, out of breath and in shock at what just happened.

Tony stared only for a moment and tried to do whatever he did with his arms as well. He struggled to scream, using any ounce of energy to lash out and make his arms his own again. But soon enough Loki was back on him, legs on either side as he sat on his upper thighs. He placed his hands on Tony’s throat, squeezing hard, and Tony choked. This was it.

A heavy weight started at his throat, then branched out like a fire over the rest of his body. His legs went limp once more. Tony couldn’t even feel his arms.

“Vile man.” Loki muttered. “Not sure if I should feel admiration or frustration.”

Tony’s vision began to blur, his head pounded from the lack of oxygen. Pictures conjured in his head, clear visions of his fellow teammates forcing themselves upon him.

Clint raping him in a hallway of his own house. Thor tearing Tony up from the inside as he took him from behind somewhere in Asgard. Steve. Steve with a cold glare, treating him like meat as he used his strength to pin Tony to the ground in a dark alleyway. It was worse than Wanda’s mind games. It felt even more real. Tony could feel the pain, smell the garbage in the city’s alley.

Tony was only brought back to reality when Loki stopped strangling him and instead began to kiss him. Tony swallowed large amounts of air the moment Loki retreated, and color came back to his face. He sputtered, but still no sound was produced from his throat. Loki watched, amused, as he tried to make sounds, form words.

“As I said before,” Loki spoke, but he was using Tony’s voice, “You don’t get your voice back, Anthony. Not if you keep being a bother. Now relax. Enjoy.”

Tony’s body slacked once more. He slowly exhaled a long breathe, letting his eyes flutter closed. His body was stuck on the rough carpet, situated like a star with his outstretched arms and legs. Again, a foreign bubble broke into his mind, expanding and pushing everything of his out. Loki pressed his weight down on Tony, erect again. Deciding to toy with the man, he gently touched Tony along his arms and the sides his throat. Tender kisses were placed along his neck and on the pulse points under his jaw as his hands warmed, traveling the length of the body. The air around them even changed and Tony opened his eyes.

He was met with shinning blue orbs and golden locks.

Instead of the monster on top of him, stroking his sensitive length down below, it was the bashful Steve Rogers. Cheeks rosy with a nervous smile, Steve gingerly played with his cock, as though something that had been done for thousands of years was suddenly embarrassing and improper. Tony stared with conflicting thoughts as the soldier caressed his cheek.

“Hey,” he softly laughed, “I got here in time.”

Tony wanted to shake his head and tell Loki to stop. He could only manage to close his eyes.

“Very well,” back came the demi-god’s mocking chide, “We’ll move on then.”

The man felt a shift of weight, then there was moisture and heat. Tony felt a warmth encompass his head and any sense of panic fainted and were replaced with a desire to please and be pleased by Loki. He spread his legs, suddenly willing, and felt a cool mouth against his dick. Loki licked him like a delicate treat, on skin that no one had ever touched before. Within seconds, as though Loki couldn’t control himself, he lifted his mouth and something warm and hard pressed into Tony’s entrance, then pushed inside.

His body opened to welcome the length, as Tony’s mouth opened to cry out. Waves of heat rolled over Tony’s body and in turn, the spasming organ between his legs sent shockwaves of pleasure and pulses of excitement directly to his attacker. As Loki began to thrust into him, Tony’s back brushed against the carpet and irritated fresh wounds. Tony couldn’t move his head, his entire body stilled, but he decided he’d rather close his eyes and endure unexpected touches then meet the arrogant gaze of Loki.

The demi-god loomed over him on the floor, pressing in and out of him as his head rested beside Tony’s ear. He could feel his searing breath against his neck, but what Tony knew should have been pain down there was nearly non-existent. “Beg me, Anthony.” He whispered in his ear. “Beg me.”

Tony panted, his body rocking with Loki’s escalating rhythm. “Please.” He felt his mouth move, but the voice seemed embodied. “Please fuck me. Fill me up.”

Loki grabbed Tony’s pale hips and tugged him closer so he could reach deeper. It threw off the rhythm for a second, but Tony’s body accommodated to the new, faster pace.

“Look at me,” he hissed. And Tony’s eyes immediately opened. A dull grey gazed up at Loki, expressionless. Vague. “Say my name, Avenger. Say it.”

Again, Tony’s voice came back to him. “Loki.” He exhaled, happy to hear his own voice vibrating back in his throat, but he tried to ignore what, exactly, he was saying. “Loki, Loki, Loki-”

Hearing his own name from those lips in that hushed, desperate tone was the man’s undoing. Both their climaxes came quickly. Black spots were appeared as Tony continued to stare at the demi-god towering over him. He held Tony in place for minutes, catching his breath as he filled the other man up with his essence. Semen leaked out and coated Tony’s inner thighs and the carpet when he pulled out. Ecstasy flooded Loki’s body at the look of Tony’s disheveled face.

As he laid shaking and panting, Loki kissed where his heart beated rapidly. Loki considered a second round, enjoying the base needs of mortals, but knew he was running out of time. He stood from his spot on the floor, eyeing the winded man as his clothes magically appeared on his chilled skin. Adjusting his dressing gown, Loki flicked two of his fingers. “Come here. Stand before me.”

Tony struggled to stand not because he tried to fight against the mind control, but rather his body was depleted and worn. It took him three tries to fully stand, one hand placed along his bed to steady himself as he took small steps. In front of Loki, his breath was still pinched as he looked at the man with grey eyes. The color swirled and crackled in his irises, hints of a deep brown hiding underneath but completely submerged.

“Kiss me, Tony.”

Not hesitating, Tony pressed forward and leaned against Loki’s chest. Tony reached his icy lips and pressed his chapped ones to them. Visions suddenly filled his head of horrific but real nightmares. They all contained his friends, his teammates, treating him just as Loki had. Bruce putting a workshop on lockdown so Tony was trapped, and yanking off Tony’s jeans while his hands were pressed down by a machine. He scowled as he touched Tony, his eyes green. Then there was Natasha in a training room, pinning Tony down and calling him weak. Natasha with an evil grin as she grabbed Tony’s dick and fellow gym-goers eagerly watched, not helping no matter how much Tony pleaded for someone to help. Tony struggled against Loki’s body, but a hand held his head in place as he continued to ravish his mouth. Another hand pressed against his bare back, and Tony fought for air pinned along the man’s freezing armor.

Loki continued to feed Tony’s mind vile hallucinations. Rhodey’s vicious laughter as he took him against a wall, not caring about the blood that coated Tony’s thighs and covered his cock. Clint strapping him to an examination table in med, without saying a word. Steve Rogers, it’s always Steve, abusing his kindness to trick Tony and get him alone, before pushing him to the ground, breaking some bones so he couldn’t run, then taking him for hours with his never-relenting stamina.

Finally, Loki pushed Tony away and he fell with a limp topple on the bed. Tears filled the corners of his eyes and began to trail down and drip into his hair, but his face was still stoic.

“The paralyses should wear away soon enough, Anthony. Hopefully before the dear Captain arrives, hm? _That_ would be unfortunate.” Loki rounded the bed and moved some random pieces of hair away from Tony’s face. The man tried to glare. “I took something from you. Well, I suppose more than one thing.” He lifted a hand to show Tony the faint sliver string of magic spinning around his finger. “So it’s only fitting I bestow some gifts upon you. You were quite the time. Send your teammates my best regards.”

Tony watched Loki’s smile stretch across his face before he vanished into the air. His eyes stayed in the spot where Loki had just stood, the sound of a quiet house suddenly defending. His empty bedroom unsettled him. Once a place of relaxation and tranquility was now tainted, stained with what just happened here.

On his bed, Tony tried to wiggle his toes, nudge the tips of his fingers. His body slowly began to tingle, like they’ve been asleep all this time, and first thing Tony definitely began to feel was the pain on his back. Shards of glass were probably still lodged in skin. Tony watched the second hand tick away on the clock on the wall. It was nearing four-thirty in the morning. Loki was only there for little less than an hour, yet it felt like he just lived through ten lifetimes.

Finally, a break through of the odd tingling sensation. Tony looked down at his body, focusing on his left foot waving back and forth. Then, finally, the right foot. _Mother fucking_ \- He gasped from the retreating numbness, forgetting what it felt like to have control of flesh and bones again. Slowly his limbs sprung to life. Legs, hands, elbows, waist, torso, neck. Loki had promised Steve that Tony would be at his house when he arrived, so Tony didn’t feel bad breaking an assurance he didn’t even make. There was just one thing on his mind right now, because, thankfully, his mind was back in his possession.

The man shuffled along the bedroom, sore with every motion, grabbed random clothes, and limped out the door.

\- - -

Steve Rogers ran up Tony’s numerous porch steps and fought back the urge to break down his front door with a violent kick. Instead he knocked with a booming fist, trying to remain calm but at the same time, unable to shake away a sickening feeling.

From the weather and the length of their trip from Canada, it took Steve about eighty minutes to finally reach the man’s house. He had called Stark constantly, always reaching his voicemail, except that one time he actually answered. Steve just didn’t understand. Why would Tony be so damn stubborn and hard to reach now, when there was probable cause to worry and regroup?

Impatient, he looked into the nearby window; no lights or a barking Junior. No sounds of any kind. He turned the door’s handle, surprised to find it unlocked, and marched inside.

“Tony?” He shouted, wasting no time as he jogged throughout the ground floor. Every room looked pristine, ordinary. Just how it did the other morning when he stopped by. The Captain jumped up the stairs, skipping eight steps at a time to land on the second floor. Again, every room looked normal. There was no Tony or Junior, but there was also no evidence of any foul play.

“Wilson?”

“ _Yeah, Cap_?”

Steve instinctively pressed the comm against his ear a little tighter. “Stark at base?”

“ _Nope. I’ve been keeping an eye out. And FRIDAY confirmed no Stark at the Tower too_.”

“Okay. Let me know if that changes.”

“ _Roger, Rogers_.”

He double-checked each room before heading back downstairs. Just as he was about to pull out his phone to check for any missed messages and try Tony’s cell phone once again, he saw a shadow on the other side of the front door. “Tony?”

But when he opened it, Natasha was standing there with a solemn expression on her face.

“Well?” He breathed, anticipating the worse. “What is it?”

“We found him.”

 

Tony Stark sat on an old cushioned booth, his head resting against the wall with his eyes shut. The lights were still dim inside the waiting room, probably to let the early risers know that the clinic was, in fact, _not_ open to the general public. He figured the doctors must get these kind of calls at all hours of the night. Though, normally their clients could say what exactly happened to their pet so they could get an idea of what to look for.

When Tony dashed through the doors earlier, having alerted them with an emergency, he didn’t know what to say. An alien had beat up his dog? A fucker who possessed magical abilities tortured the dog? In the end, Tony could only scribble on a piece of paper that a burglar had broken into his home while he was away and he found the pup curled up in a corner.

Tony didn’t have his voice. He could feel the vocal chords vibrating every time he tried to speak or even hum, but it was useless. The assistant was understanding of his panicked, scrawled words, but perhaps she figured the man was a mute or something.

Tony continued to just rest against the wall, occasionally opening his eyes to glance down the darkened hallway in hopes of seeing Junior running towards him and a smiling doctor who says, “ _He’s healthy and fine. It was just a cruel trick_.”

The short girl behind the counter quietly ate a breakfast as her computer booted up. Tony was grateful she didn’t try to make conversation. The main doors suddenly chimed, and Tony heard the girl say, “We’re not open yet-” before an authoritative voice answered back, “We’re here for him. It’s alright.”

Tony cocked his head to the side, watching as two shadows of his friends walked over. He frowned, realizing what kind of sight he must have made. Blood stains from Junior. Baggy sweats, old shoes, a disheveled hoodie that Tony hoped hid his body’s stiff positioning. It certainly hid the sore spots on his head; hoodies were great at concealing identities, or simply making the statement of “ _it’s early, don’t talk to me I’m dead-tired_.”

The girl behind the counter sat back down, recognizing the outfits from television, and quietly watched the scene unfold as she sipped a mug of coffee.

“What happened?” Natasha was the first to speak, peering down the hallway the man had glanced at just seconds before.

Tony shrugged, then grabbed the notepad laying beside him. Steve frowned as he began to write on the paper, and he stole a glance at Natasha who was just as confused, before looking back at Tony. With a wobbling hand he wrote, a look of frustration jumping on his face both times he had to pause and shake his hand to ward off the tremors.

_**Junior was attacked**_.

Steve crossed his arms. “By Loki.”

Tony nodded and rested his head back against the wall and returned to closing his eyes. It was easy to tell the man was struggling to contain his composure. His breathing hitched, his eyes threatened to twitch. When Steve opened his mouth to say more, Natasha squeezed his arm and spoke to him with her eyes. Wordlessly, she took a seat beside Tony and waited too. Steve joined.

For a few more minutes they patiently waited, both agents just relieved they found Tony in one piece. Though Steve had a hundred questions to ask, he knew it wasn’t the best time. Ever since the falling out with Pepper, Junior became Tony’s constant. A friend who Tony considered wasn’t one, a little loyal bundle of fur that Tony had begun to reply on even more so than JARVIS. He had been there for him, acting as a guard dog and loving Tony without an ounce of judgment.

When a door opened at the end of the hallway, both Natasha and Steve jumped when Tony sprung from his seat and immediately walked to the veterinarian. They watched, afraid to breathe, as the man softly spoke to Tony and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. It was hard to tell in the dimmed hall, but Steve could see a look of regret on the man’s tanned face. Seconds later, Tony’s head crouched over and he pressed a hand over his eyes. One single, horrible sound of weeping filled the quiet office, followed by some ragged breathing against a wall. Natasha looked away, disheartened.

It was only when Junior limped out to lick Tony’s outstretched hand did they realize he was overcome with relief.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“You gotta tell us what happened.”

Just a few hours later Tony found himself standing in the Facility’s main lounge. Normally after assignments, even as mundane as scouting for Hydra bases, there was protocol for a debriefing in a conference room. It meant paperwork, filing, being as detailed as possible, and reporting any odd abnormalities, even if it seemed unrelated at the time. There was always some sort of SHIELD agent present to record the meeting and ensure accuracy of the report, but Tony refused to step into any sort of room with some random agent. Without a voice, he just shook his head strongly, pointing to the two-lettered word on his small notepad.

_**NO** _

So here they were, in the lounge that didn’t have any hidden microphones or wandering agents. Clint stretched himself out on a nearby couch, propping up his legs on a footrest while the Maximoff silently sat, watching, concerned, on a chair across from him. Natasha leaned against the couch’s arm, ankles crossed, while Bruce sat at a table’s end chair. Wilson stood from feet away, but Steve was the closest to the man, his arms crossed and his helmet tossed on a accent table. Although the décor encouraged leisure and relaxation, this was anything but.

Tony continued to stare at the floor with his own arms crossed, thinking and trying to examine a way out of all this mess.

Clint frowned. “Look, Tony, you gotta say - _or write_ \- something. The faster you tell us, the faster we can work on getting this bastard.” The archer obviously had a sore spot with Thor’s half-brother, and would like nothing more than to see the demi-god get his comeuppance. But how do you explain to a group of people what happened, much less take the time to write it on paper?

Tony bit his lip, wincing when he realized there lingering teeth marks that were not his own.

“You’re…not going to say anything?” Wilson asked, scrutinizing Tony in an odd way that made the man’s skin crawl. The moment Tony looked at Wilson, though, a sudden image erupted in his head. It was a very naked Sam Wilson, his face angry, as he took Tony from behind in this very lounge. He shoved Tony up against the back of a couch, pressing his face into the cushion as he tugged down his pants and moved his underwear to the side. His fingers forced themselves into a dry passage, not stopping as much as Tony protested.

Tony took a few steps back, shaking his head with the vulgar vision and blinking frantically. He gasped at the sensation it evoked, as though he really was just violated again, before looking up to find an equally confused Wilson.

He huffed, and pointed at his throat, then tossed hands in the air to convey a sense of frustration.

Clint tapped his chin. “That’s some case of strep throat, Stark. Not even a try? Promise I won’t laugh.”

Tony shook his head, actively avoiding the man’s gaze in paranoia. He wrote _**THOR**_ on a new sheet of paper and, hoping another stray vision wouldn’t invade his mind, he took a chance and glanced back at Sam to see if he understood the problem. Tony pointed to the name, then back at his throat. To a greater extent, he even pretended to hold a hefty hammer. He was horrible with charades, but this would have to do.

Sam only seemed put-back, making the billionaire feel as foolish as he looked.

“You need Thor to get your voice back.” Steve narrowed his brow, catching the eye of Tony before he choked on saliva and had to look away. Another vision, the man panicked, as he tried to shake the image of Rogers violating him on the lounge floor. The others were all there as well, cheering their Captain on as he thrusted into him. _What was going on?_

“Tony? Are you alright?”

He rubbed his face, annoyed and frustrated with the entire situation, and had to stop himself from stomping like a child. He glanced back at Steve, only looking as high as his chest, and nodded. _Yes_. He pointed back to the notepad. _**Need Thor**_.

“Isn’t he away?” Natasha responded.

“Yeah,” Wilson said. “He’s handling the mess on his home planet still. He’s pretty upset. Man just lost his father.”

“To a madman.” Steve added on, before looking back at the frazzled Tony. “Loki attacked Junior and somehow…took your voice? Right? And you need Thor to help you get it back?”

He exhaled. Finally.

“But why?” Bruce asked. “ He didn’t pay Tony a visit just because he could lift Thor’s hammer.”

“No. I’m sure there were a number of reasons,” Steve said. “Tony is one of us. And he hurt him. This was a play against the Avengers just as it was a power play to prove to himself that Tony shouldn’t be worthy to wield the thing.”

“Hey.” Natasha pointed back at the brunet, who was now pacing back and forth in short strides, once again shaking his head. Tony walked with a prominent limp, one he had concealed earlier as he walked into the lounge. Everyone watched as he rubbed his temples and pressed both hands against his skull, eyes clenched shut. His mouth was open, and it took the group a second to realize it was a silent scream.

Wanda stood from her seat, walking towards the suffering man with a determined look in her eye. No one stopped her. Her right hand ignited with a crimson glow and Tony was too slow to react when she held her hand only inches in front of Tony’s face. His eyes reddened and he suddenly grew very calm. His breathing evened out.

“Loki didn’t just take his voice,” the woman explained in her accent, “He also gave him something.”

A constant stream of red energy swirled around Wanda’s hand and Tony’s forehead. Images popped into Tony’s mind as the Scarlet Witch tried to find what she was searching for. When she did, the woman dropped her hand and stumbled back, clutching her own head. She gasped, wide-eyed. “He…” she swallowed, “Loki is making Mr. Stark see things.”

“What do you mean?” Steve pressed.

“Just…horrible visions.” Wanda looked back up at the billionaire, understanding everything now. “I can get rid of the pictures.” She whispered. “But I can do nothing for your voice.”

 _Do nothing for your voice_. The words echoed in Tony’s head though he could say none. Instead he stood before his concerned teammates, like a train wreck put on display. He absent-mindedly rubbed a baggy sleeve, focusing on Wanda’s glowing hand approaching. “It’s okay.” Wanda slowly nodded. She knew the man was apprehensive of her talent, always had been since they met in less than ideal circumstances. But now there was different reason for Tony’s fear of things unexplained. She had seen all the evidence in his memories. Wanda used her ring finger to gently touch Tony’s forehead. She watched as Tony closed his eyes, his hands forming into fists. The magical energy prodded Tony’s mind, taking away the foreign traces that lurked there and didn’t belong. It was a tricky web that contaminated neurons and seeped into far corners of the psyche. Wanda thought the hex was fascinating, highly complex; it only triggering when Tony’s eyes would land on a familiar face. She pulled as much of the enchantment as she could, leaving only small enough traces that would break down within hours.

The Sokovian girl watched the last of the crimson force swirl around and into her hand. It was frightening; if she hadn’t been able to do this, Tony may have suffered the… _unspeakable_ visions for years, never able to overpower them and possibly be forced to isolate himself once reaching a breaking point.

Tony let out a shaky breath, tilting his head just an inch to convey an honest thank you.

“Okay. Recap,” Steve walked to the center of the room and looked at his team. “Loki is here and Thor isn’t. He sent us on a pointless pursuit so he could get Tony defenseless. He attacked him to get at us and make a point. Where would he go next?”

There was a silence in the room. One Tony couldn’t stand, especially when Steve turned around to look at him with a hard, unreadable gaze.

“Uh-” Clint swirled his index finger around as he relaxed along the seat, “Something tells me there’s more to the story. With the, you know, battered wife look.”

“ _Barton_ -”

Natasha shook her head at Bruce, telling him not to get into it right now. This wasn’t the time.

“I’m going to alert SHIELD. Fury needs to know the situation.” Sam was halfway across the lounge when an entire table toppled over.

The military man looked back at the flipped over marble table, then up at the man who frantically made giant gestures with his hands, creating a large “ **X** ” motion. _No_ , Tony was saying. _Do not do that._

It was unnerving to see the normally chipper man so serious. Grim.

“He wants this classified,” Natasha explained. “This stays here. In this room and with Thor. No one else.” She glanced over the stiffening soldier. “Cap?”

Everyone looked at Steve, never minding the fact that Tony just made a hundred-and-thirty pound table flip over. Without a sound, Steve marched up to Tony with a grimace. His stride was so sudden and intimidating, Tony tried to match each of his steps with limped steps of his own, trailing backwards. He stopped to where Tony once stood, however, and bent down to place two fingers against the carpeted floor. The tips of his fingers came back bloody.

He glanced back at Tony, as did the rest of the team, and noticed the ends of his sweatpants had red stains. Tony pressed himself against the wall, his chest rising and falling as everyone began to look at him with questionable or judgmental gazes. This was a horrible mistake. He should have never agreed to go to the damn Facility. He could live without his voice, couldn’t he? Just learn sign language, study the timeless techniques of mimes. He didn’t need a voice to sign paperwork or save strangers.

Never before had he felt so frustrated. Tony was a vocal person, using words much more and better than body language. His hands still shook when he tried to write anything, and damn them if they were going to make him write what happened in that house. _Wait. Wait, wait, wait a second. Maximoff._

Steve straightened himself and wordlessly grabbed the discarded notepad and pen. “You’re going to tell us what happened to you, Tony. But you’re going to do it on your way to med.”

Tony shook his head, waving his hands, and began to limp back towards Wanda. He slapped the notepad from Rogers's hand to further make his point before, awkwardly, grabbing the girl’s hand and tried to convey the idea of telepathy by touching his own forehead. With a tentative look, Wanda obliged and pressed her hand against Tony’s bruised skull. Both gasped, and Tony had to close his eyes from the unfortunate familiar sensation of a mind invasion.

This alien bubble was welcomed, however, as it formed in Tony’s psyche and expanded.

“Wanda?” Clint blinked. “Are you able to tell us what happened?”

“Yes,” she pushed her hand tighter against Tony’s hair. “But I will only say what Tony wants to tell you.” A short pause. “Loki attacked me. He invaded my home and tried to kill my dog. He assaulted me. We fought.”

“I was there.” Steve interrupted. “At the house. There wasn’t one pillow overturned.”

“The broken glass?” Wanda used the same biting inflection Tony utilized inside his head. “The blood from Junior? My bedroom?”

“Nothing was out of place, Tony.” Steve frowned, then spoke a little more softly, “Do you think Loki toyed with you somehow?”

Tony’s eyes doubled in size and he gestured wildly. Wanda sneered, “He’s _toying with you_. I never answered the phone, Steve. It was Loki. I wanted to tell you. I can’t fight against magic. It doesn’t play by the damn rules.” Wanda faltered, trying to catch up with the racing thoughts. She settled with the defeated, lingering contemplation. “He wanted this to happen.”

The woman pulled her hand away from Tony, noting the reddening eyes that wasn’t caused by her magic. She looked over at her teammates. “Mr. Stark needs medics. He was raped.”

-

It felt as though he flat-lined. Everyone would blame themselves for this. They would see themselves as unfit heroes. See Tony as a mistake. They wouldn’t be able to look at him anymore. He was soiled, a constant reminder of failure. He would have to move. Get a new name. Just lock himself in a workshop or his bedroom and never come out.

“Tony.” A voice broke through his thoughts. Collected, concerned.

Looking up, he saw Steve Rogers. The other man somehow stood directly in front of him without him noticing, but that was purposeful. Only Tony could see the utter destruction of their Captain’s hard shell. His face scrunched up, his fingers fidgeted at their sides. This man was known for stopping German war tanks in their path, taking down entire legions of troops with just a fist and shield. But here, now, Tony only saw a man destroyed by the same person who destroyed him. Loki had truly ruined everything. Steve couldn’t even touch him anymore.

Tony stepped away, arms wrapping around themselves until he hit the wall behind him. He opened his mouth, trying to speak; knowing the result. This was a personal hell. There was no more energy for anger, no energy for anything. He caught the gaze of Bruce, a vague inkling of a thought crossed his mind of Banner having him on the table he sat at. The picture wasn’t as clear as an HD movie, but it was still there, lingering. His thighs spread, a dick plunging. Eyes as cold and blue as Loki‘s.

Tony pressed his body against the wall and slunk down until he sat on the floor, hands pressed over his ears. Unaware of the surroundings, closing his eyes, he didn’t notice Steve trying to move towards him, only to be stopped by Barton. Nearby Wanda and Sam watched. Natasha compartmentalized her own caustic memories, seeing Tony’s pain, and knew Clint must also relate, having been the victim of Loki before. Natasha approached Tony, careful, and crouched to be on his eye level. “We’re going to the med wing, yeah? The doctor will clean you up. No one will know.”

They watched, all of them, as Natasha and Tony walked out of the room. He stared at an unfocused point on the ground, dazed and trying to detach himself from the situation. No one could blame him. He walked beside the Russian, still trying to hide an obvious limp. Wordlessly, giving each other only sideways glances, the remaining team came to a consensus. Something horrible happened, and someone was going to pay. Those baggy clothes were hiding more than an injured mind.

"Some of his hair was pulled out.” Clint thought aloud. “I know it…doesn’t compare to…well…but still. That fucking bastard.”

“That fucking bastard.” Wanda repeated, tasting the sound of the curse on her tongue. “There is not a word for a man like Loki. I want to find him. I want to help.”

“Contact Thor. We need him here.”

Everyone looked over at Steve, who still stood by the upper platform of the lounge where Tony just was. He continued to face the wall as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He turned around, arms crossed, shoulders stiff. His eyes glowered at the ground, as though he was hoping laser beams would conjure forth and burn a hole in the earth. His nostrils flared, his breathing labored. Only a few seconds of this tense silence passed before a female, but computerized voice filled the intercom.

“ _Captain Rogers? Thor of Asgard is requesting a line. Can I put him through?_ ”

“Yes.” Steve spoke through clenched teeth, as though it was Thor he was angry with.

“Hello, Avenging brethren.” A booming voice echoed through the room, but one could tell there was sadness interlaced with his words.

“Thor,” Steve continued to stare at the ground. “We need you to return to New York.”

An awkward stillness. Thor expected a reasonable return back to Earth after a designated time of mourning for the King, his own father. The god of thunder had to undertake more responsibilities now, undergo a coordination and perform the traditional and strict customs of his people before the crown would be bestowed upon him. He understood there was the issue of his half-brother escaping, but he thought his friends would understand the devastation he felt of losing his last parent. “Is there trouble?” Thor finally asked.

“Loki is here. On Earth.” Bruce supplied.

Steve ruffled his hair with a bit more vigor than necessary. “He hurt Tony.”

“Hurt Warrior Stark?” The concern was genuine. “Surely Loki-”

“He attacked Tony, Thor.” Steve raised the volume of his voice, his patience thinning. “We need you back here. Now. And help us find him.”

“I shall make hast.”

\- - -

Tony sat against the door with a bottle of wine between his legs and a hand wrapped around the neck of it. There were three more bottles in his vicinity, because he knew he wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. No, he was content in his shitty new accommodations at the Facility.

His temporary room was pretty large by normal standards. There was an entire hallway devoted to suites for Avengers-in-training, each room possessing a bed large enough for the Hulk and a view of an open field and distant woods. He had a TV he’d never use. A mini-fridge filled with those little snacks one would find at nice hotels. Assuming he’d ever be hungry again, the salted peanuts and chocolates should sustain him enough to never leave the room. But the bottles of wine were life saving. Tony could numb the burning of the antiseptic creams and dull the growing headaches.

Maybe the lodging wasn’t _that_ shitty. But Tony never felt overly comfortable sleeping in a new place. He had his past history of dark caves to thank for that.

“Loki placed a spell on him. Can he even _do_ that?”

Tony sat sitting along the bedroom door, listening as his fellow friends made thirty minute intervals to check up on him. He didn’t want company, and he figured they knew that. As long as his door was shut and the Facility’s A.L, HAMMER, could confirm he was inside the room, everyone was happy.

Everyone thought it best that Stark stay at the Facility, surrounded by agents and fellow Avengers. Though he could certainly hold his own until help arrived, they wanted to utilize every precaution. After all, Loki was still out there somewhere. As the SHIELD-approved doctor painstakingly removed bits of glass from his back and bandaged numerous cuts, Natasha had said teams were mobilized and a search to find the demi-god was on. No one heard the details. Knowing that Loki was the cause of the New York invasion was reason enough to want to capture the alien.

A rumple of the bed sheets caught Tony’s attention and he darted his eyes to the left. Junior laid on the cloud-like mattress, caught in a dream as his paws gently twitched. From the floor he could see its eyelids twitching. Various spots of black fur were shaved from his body so the vet could properly stitch and operate on the deeper wounds. Some places would scar, and the black lab would have to wear an annoying cone around his neck for a month or two. At least he liked the bed. Tony knew he didn’t like to walk, much less run, any more.

He took another swallow of the expensive liquid, humming with appreciation for the delicious taste but no sound reached his ears. For the hell of it, he tried to scream as loud, as earth-shattering as he could. He felt the strain of it in his throat, the rush of air escaping his mouth, but making any sort of noise was not possible. Thinking back to the night, thought he didn’t like to dwell, Tony knew he had, at one point, broke free of Loki’s magic and was able to kick the fucker square in the stomach. But this was different. Tony felt as though he couldn’t break this curse. Something told him it had something to do that the odd sliver stream of light that wrapped over Loki’s finger.

He didn’t know a damn thing about fucking magic; other than the fact it was totally and completely un-fucking-fair.

Footsteps approached from the other side of the door. Tony braced himself. The door rattled from a series of knocks he was familiar with. He took another gulp of the wine, bigger than his previous swigs, before backing away from the door. He grabbed a folded blanket off a chair, dragging it and lazily draping it over his shoulders so the visitor wouldn’t see the bandages on his body. The ones on his scalp were bad enough.

“Um. Uh…if you don’t mind if I can come in, can you stomp on the floor? Knock back?”

The voice was definitely the Captain. And his tone made Tony think he was probably regretting his decision. Ignoring the ache, Tony did his best to drum on the carpeted floor. He heard the clicks of the secured keycode, then the door slid open to reveal what he imagined; a very unkempt soldier.

“I hope that was a yes.” Steve tried to smile, but it fell short. The door closed behind him. Junior lifted his head, eyeing up the Captain before deeming him safe. He snuggled against the pile of pillows once more. “Mind I sit with you?”

Tony shrugged, shaking his head _no_. He watched the other man sit down cross-legged to his side, the angle smart. From the side Steve was non-threatening, easily escapable if Tony would perchance have an episode or demand that he leave. Tony grabbed the notebook on the nearby chair, clicking the pen and began to write. Steve watched, mouth slacking.

_**Didn’t go with SHIELD?** _

Steve shook his head. The organized teams left a few hours ago, even most of the Avengers once Thor arrived. “I wasn’t ready to leave.”

He looked over at Tony, the billionaire’s expression questioning. “I didn’t…I don’t want to leave while you’re here. Last time I left, something horrible happened.”

Subconsciously, Tony wrapped himself tighter in the indigo-colored blanket. They sat in silence for a few moments, each looking elsewhere. Steve couldn’t help but feel impossibly stupid and careless. He boarded that Quinjet without a second thought, flew thousands of miles away and walked right into the god of Mischief’s trap. Since the lounge, he played that phone conversation over and over in his head until he grew so frustrated he felt exhausted. He didn’t see past Loki’s tricks. He was too late. How did that make him the _good man_ people always believed him to be?

A hand cupped Rogers knee. He looked up, surprised, to see Tony leaning forward and looking at him curiously. He looked back into the other male’s eyes, realizing what he was asking but not understanding why.

_**Are you okay?** _

Steve didn’t have an answer to that question. He didn’t have the right to answer that. _No. No, this was all wrong._ He should have been asking _Tony_ that. “Are _you_ okay?” He gripped Tony’s hand. “I should’ve-”

Tony pushed him, hard. Using his other hand, Tony send a strong enough jolt to the soldier’s shoulder that made him fall backwards. He caught himself in time, bringing himself back up to give Tony a disbelieving stare. Tony pointed at him with a stern look, and continued to do so as he wrote, without looking at the notepad.

_**If you say sorry, if you say you should’ve been** _

_**there and there was something you could have done, shut up.** _

The soldier exhaled, slumping, and looked at the intricate designs on the carpet rather than Tony’s vivid browns. This was harder than he imagined, it always was with the man. Even simple conversations made adrenaline course through his veins and left him feeling sheepish at his lame words. This was different, obviously. Steve just wasn’t dealing with an infatuation with Tony anymore, he was also trying to juggle the unbound rage he felt for the demi-god. He almost hoped Thor would find the cretin first, because if Steve does; the god of Thunder won’t have any family left.

“Okay.” He forced the word out.

Tony nodded. _Okay_. Then, he wrote, _**Leads?**_

“No. But we have Thor. If anyone can find the bastard, it’s him.”

Tony made an all-encompassing gesture with his hands, looking away. Steve figured it was his way of saying _Makes sense_ , or _an alright, we’re getting there_. Really, it was the man’s eyes that helped Steve understand. They were just as expressive as his voice. Rogers could see a _no_ before Stark gestured it, a _I’m sorry_ before he wrote down the letters. Steve eyed the half-empty bottle of red wine, then the others seemingly waiting in line to be opened.

“How are you doing, though? I, um,” Steve cleared his throat, “I asked the doctor. He didn’t say much.”

Tony tugged at his shirt’s sleeve, looking elsewhere. He teetered his other hand, grimacing, Then, for an after-thought, simply shrugged, glancing at the soldier with a _what-can-you-do_ expression.

Tony’s head was the most obvious with a long white bandage wrapped around the circumference of his head and covering some of his forehead. There was one small area that had a dark bruise peeking from the gauze. The blanket covered most of his body, though Steve could see some minute scraps along his arms. He didn’t want to imagine everything he couldn’t see.

Steve nodded, either way. “ _I’m fine, or I will be. Nothing that won’t eventually heal_ ” He imagined Tony telling him. “And…your head?”

Tony gestured to the mini-workshop he created on a large desk across the room. There were pieces of thin metal, some intensive wiring, pliers, other small instruments. Steve recognized most of the parts, especially the general outlined shape of the metal piece. Tony was making another Faraday headpiece, something he could wear to keep his mind being affected by telepathic abilities. Normally, Tony wore such a device around Wanda, weary of her powers and how the kinetic energy seemed to be, at times, released solely by her emotions. There was a bigger reason now and Rogers guessed he’d find Tony wearing the thin band of metal at the base of his head for most hours of the day.

Steve watched, almost amused, when Tony tried to impersonate Wanda’s odd, jerky movements when performing her abilities, then scowled and rolled his eyes. _I’ll be wearing the headpiece 24/7, so Wanda will probably hate me_.

Steve let a bitter smile out. “I think she’ll understand.”

Both of them sat in silence for a while longer, listening to the dull hum of an air conditioning vent and the soft breathing of Junior. The silence could have been tolerable if Steve knew Tony’s silence was voluntary. The billionaire could ramble for hours, not that Steve would ever mind, and it was discouraging to see him writing or signaling as little as he could to get a general message across. There were no quips. No snarky one-liners or sarcastic remarks.

“When Barton and Maximoff get back from your place, we’ll join the search.”

Tony sighed heavily, pointing to himself then at the ground with an exaggerated flourish. _Yeah, and I’m staying right here_.

He wanted to help. He probably wanted to kill the son-of-a-bitch as much as Steve did, but it wasn’t safe. Without his voice, it would be difficult to fight alongside the team and communicate with his suit. And that’s not even considering the injuries.

“I’m going to have agents monitor your windows and door. Take every precaution available. I just…I can’t have you hurt again.”

Tony looked over at Steve, pinching his lips. _I’m not some damsel_ , Rogers could practically hear him thinking. “Yeah.” He stretched out his legs, “Just bare with me.”

Again, they fell into a silence. Steve watched Tony as the man surveyed the view outside the large windows. The sun had set a few hours ago and nightlife began to strive. There was a quiet, a stillness there that didn’t exist anywhere in the city. Tony wasn’t even sure if it existed at the mansion anymore. Wrapping the blanket around him tighter, he glanced at the clock. Ten-thirteen. Still pretty early, though he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night prior. He eyed the wine bottle. Though the idea of falling into a drunken coma was enticing, especially because it promised no dreams, just feeling buzzed was nearly too much. That good kind of light-headedness didn’t exist for him anymore; it couldn’t. All it reminded him of was that ominous buzzing sound assaulting his ears, the presence of someone else inside his head.

A heat grew behind Tony’s eyelids, his chin lowered to his chest. Would he ever sleep again? Would he have to curl up on his bed every night, paranoid of seeing a figure standing in his doorframe, until he simply fell asleep from exhaustion and a nervous breakdown?

“Do you…I mean….” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes looking at the ceiling, “..would you mind if you kept me company? Tonight? Before I leave?”

Tony turned his head to face the soldier as the man let out a long breath. Tony understood what the man was doing; he knew that Tony was too stubborn, prideful to ask for a sleepover buddy. Really, the man was surprised he didn’t think of the idea first.

As soon as Steve felt his face growing hot, he looked out the window, but seconds later realized Tony stood out of the corner of his eye. He turned, swallowing. The man had a soft smirk painted on his lips, accepting Steve’s offer, and began to limp over towards the bed. Junior perked to attention.

“Okay. Uh-great. I can take the couch and we could-” Steve faltered.

Tony looked at him, waving an obvious refusal of his suggestion and instead, pointed to the bed, and then the digital clock on the nightstand. Tony blinked at him with an expression Steve couldn’t read. It was some mixture of hoping and uncertainty.

The Captain cocked his head. “Uh…hm. The…bed?”

Tony slowly moved his head up and down. _Yeah, dumbass. The bed_.

“And you want me…there?”

There was a long, loud stare.

“I-I’m sorry,” Steve gave an awkward smile, “I promise I’ll get the hang of this. I just…I’m used to giving orders. But you- I’m insulting you, aren’t I?”

Tony walked closer to him, his limp getting better, and he pointed at Steve’s arms, made a gesture to reference the soldier’s height. Steve’s eyebrows squished together and he glanced behind Tony at Junior, as though the dog could tell him the answer. The billionaire huffed. Tony held a hand to his opposite arm, simulating the process of getting a shot. He then compared his height with Steve’s, a profound difference, and then made the universal gesture, a flex, to show off muscle. Finally, he pointed back at the bed, and at himself.

The convoluted charade suddenly made sense to Steve, with Tony referencing the super soldier serum. Tony didn’t want them to sleep together. He wanted Steve to stay awake as he slept, a comfort for him, an easy feat for Steve’s never-ending energy levels.

“I’ll stay awake as you sleep,” his played the game, “if you don’t mind. Keep an eye on the search teams. Don’t need much sleep anyway.”

A genuine smile grew, lighting up Tony’s face and softening his eyes. Steve knew that one too.

_Thank you._

-

Tony laid on a side of the bed, face away from Steve, his arms curled around his stomach and legs slightly bent.

He didn’t reach for the blanket, and Rogers wasn’t going to mother him and insist that he did. Steve sat upright on the opposite side, absent-mindedly petting Junior’s head as the animal laid between them in a tight ball. The only light came from dimmed in-ground bulbs, one in each corner. It was mood lighting, soft enough to fall asleep in, bright enough to easily make your way to the bathroom.

Steve sat there quietly and looked up at the ceiling, feeling a flush creep across his cheeks. He tried to stay still, hoping Tony would fall sleep soon if he wasn’t already. Steve was in Tony’s bed, just sitting there; bare feet, khaki’s, and a thin t-shirt he normally wore under a button-up. It wasn’t like he was spooning Stark, but… Steve glanced over at Tony, curled on his side.

Tony breathed deeply, evenly, and Steve took the chance to lean over to see a relaxed expression. A slow smile emerged on Steve’s face, and he continued to watch the steady rise and fall of Tony’s chest. He wanted to reach out, to move the hair that fell across Tony’s forehead, to massage the tense muscles and make Tony feel something other than pain for a little while. He wanted to hold Tony tightly to himself, keep the man pressed against his chest forever and away from everything.

Junior suddenly popped his head up from the ruffled blanket, stretching as he looked at Steve with a sleepy stare. He stood then, its limp matching his owner, and slowly maneuvered off the bed to sleep somewhere else. Steve watched the dog as it laid against the couch’s foot, and then looked back at the sleeping man. Even scarred, Tony’s skin looked so perfect. Steve wanted to run his fingers though the hair, kiss every bruise, be the blanket of warmth and protection. Steve knew he couldn’t. It would be hard to explain in normal circumstances if Tony woke up, but he didn’t want to risk the man reliving a memory.

“Good night, Tony.” He rubbed his eyes in the darkness, nudging down from the headboard and laid against some pillows. He glanced back at the other male, unable to stop watching, studying the stature and how his hair rested along the pillow. Feeling confident, abit sneaky, Steve took a chance and scooted closer to the comatose form. It was for added protection, he lamely thought. To be there for Tony if he would suddenly wake from a nightmare…to smell the faint scent of sweat and citrus.

Steve inhaled, hands clasped on his abdomen, ankles crossed near the foot of the bed. He was tired, but it was also incredibly easy to just stay awake thanks to the serum. He didn’t know how long he could remind awake, actually. For an assignment a few months ago, he made the new record of seven days without any side effects.

As Steve began to organize the formation of the search parties in his head, as he mapped out the course of action to take once Clint and Wanda arrived back at the facility, everything stopped when Tony rolled over.

Steve looked over, finding the other male only a few inches away from him, Tony’s lips slightly parted and hair tussled. Steve’s breath hitched, he blinked. He could feel Tony’s warm breath hitting his neck, see Tony’s hands between his own chest and the mattress, open and free of fidgets. It was hard to breathe, to move, to do anything. Tony was so close. Never looking as unguarded and mesmerizing as he did in front of Steve. A warmth reached the tip of Steve’s ears, turning them red as he softly adjusted himself and extended a hand to amend a crooked bandage. He tenderly tugged at the gauze almost covering Tony’s left eye, pulling it up so it sat more firmly around his head.

Steve let his fingers rest upon Tony’s forehead for just a few seconds, trailing down his nose before pulling away. He shouldn’t have done that. But it felt so right.

Moving just a bit closer, Steve wrapped a strong arm around Tony’s shoulders, holding him at his chest a bit awkwardly. Warmth radiated throughout Steve’s body; he could feel his heartbeat in his throat from Tony’s proximity. This was euphoria, what reaching Nirvana felt like.

Just as he was about to chance a tighter embrace, Tony was the one who shuffled closer instead. Steve blinked, feeling as Tony buried his face into his chest and neck, his arms adjusting to the new position. Tony didn’t open his eyes as he cuddled against the soldier’s firm chest, nor open his eyes when he sighed deeply and rested his head in the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve Rogers wasn’t a fool, knowing the man’s movements were a bit too precise for someone supposedly asleep. Like clockwork, he felt a slow smile stretch on Tony’s face as his lips ghosted Steve’s skin. Steve smiled too, his heat stuttering for a just a moment, and hugged Tony tighter. He closed his eyes, and stroked Tony’s hair even after his breathing softened. Maybe Loki didn’t ruin everything. And though Steve and Tony would always be reluctant to call this what it was, and even make whatever it was official or even public, at least they had moments like this.

Steve Rogers realized then, that he would always want more.

\- - -

Tony sat up, covered in sweat from a dream he couldn’t remember. He looked around, vision still slightly blurry, for a moment forgetting where he even was. _The Facility_ , he reminded himself. Tony stretched, glancing around. Steve wasn’t in the room. He pressed palms to his face, forcing the ominous, twisted feeling in his gut away. He couldn’t recall the nightmare, thankfully, but it must have been a nasty one.

Feeling the unavoidable grip of reality dawn on him, he combed through his hair with fingers, adjusting the bandage, and looked around the bedroom again but with more caution. The early morning sun lit the open fields through the window, but hadn’t reached inside yet. Junior was nearby, licking up some water from his dish. Tony’s notebook caught his attention, though, it laying on the nightstand with handwriting that wasn’t his own.

He reached for it, grimacing at a sore muscle, and tried to focus on the printed, large letters.

**_Maybe the thing to do after you roll the dice and lose, is to just pick them back up and roll again._ **

**_I decided my life is too simple. And I want to complicate the hell out of it. With you._ **

**_I’ll see you soon._ **

**_Steve Rogers_ **

\- - -

Clint opened the front door to Tony’s house, appreciating the fine woodwork for something that was made a few decades ago.

He stepped inside, flicking on the light switch on the closest wall. He looked around, instinctively placing a hand on his bow. The air was stale. It left a familiar, bitter taste in his mouth.

“He was definitely here.” The implication was obvious, and the archer reached into a pocket to pop a stick of gum into his mouth. Mind control, magic, Frost-Giant presence; they all left a particular mark, one that hit too close to home for Barton.

“Wait.” Wanda still stood in the doorframe of the house. She used both hands and swept them in front of her in delicate, intricate movements. The sensitive crimson flow of kinetic energy seeped from her fingers and quickly traveled into every room of the quiet house.

Suddenly, like a flash of a camera, everything was different.

Clint jumped, surprised, and the first thing he noticed was the smell of blood.

“It was a casting spell,” she explained, stepping inside. “He covered up his crime.”

The man stopped at the base of the stair case, eyeing the scratch marks on the wall and scruff smudges in the kitchen that didn’t stop going up the steps. The two went to Tony’s house to gather a few more of the man’s belongings, knowing Tony would probably not want to revisit the place anytime soon. They also came here for another reason as well; find clues as to where Loki may have gone. They both traveled up the stairs. Wanda examined Tony’s bedroom, stiffened by the smell of bodily fluids and the sight of the chaotic room. Clint glanced at the hallway’s floor, trying not to think about how likely it was that Tony was dragged through there. When he arrived at the end bedroom, he nearly gagged. It was a miracle that dog was alive. Blood puddled in the corner, smaller amounts staining the floor and printing what seemed to be Tony’s frantic handprints.

The house had an illness that would never be cured. Clint turned back around. They came there for nothing.

\- - -

As days passed, Tony’s temporary room grew messier and messier.

Sheets of metal littered the floor, a large whiteboard was cluttered with formulas and mindless doodles stood in the middle of the room, and entire corner was stripped of its carpeting so Tony could weld without trying to catch anything on fire. Things he now possessed, all stolen from the labs on the second sublevel. No one would dare complain, especially if Tony would answer his door with a lit blowtorch.

Tony wore bulky gloves as he reshaped the metal. It had to be redone at the molecule level, so the thin band could have anti-psionic abilities and keep his head from being affected by damn telepaths and magic. He also had to highly magnetized the thing to reinforce its designed purpose. Afterwards he would be able to wear the thing as often as he liked, hidden under his hair, tight enough to stay, but comfortable enough to even forget its there. At this rate, assuming the supplies would last, he could make three more replacements after the original. Fuck magic.

He picked up a few more peanuts from a dish, popping them into his mouth for a quick break. Tony didn’t necessarily want to become a hermit, never leaving the room and making concerned friends even more worried. He strolled around when he thought he ought to, mindful of places with high agent-traffic and generally just kept it to the kitchen, lounge, the outside, and hallway of suites. The only thing annoying, or rage-inducing, was the fact he couldn’t fucking talk.

Bruce, who didn’t go with the SHIELD search party for a very green reason, suggested Tony try to take up sign language until his voice returned. Tony knew the guy had good intentions, but learning sign language meant he was accepting the fact he’d forever be a mute. No, he’d rather tough it out. Tony had faith in his teammates. A few knocks sounded from the door and Tony cocked his head, waiting.

“It’s me.” Bruce lamely supplied.

The man took off his gloves, turned off the torch and allowed the metal to cool. He walked the length of the bedroom, the sharp pain between his legs lessening now to a dull throbbing. The limp wasn’t as pronounced. In fact, most of his bandages came off the other day. All that remained were annoying scabs and faint bruises. Give it a few more days, and he’d be comfortable to wear short-sleeves again.

Tony opened the door, gesturing for the scientist to come in.

“I’m surprised you’re here.”

Tony walked back to the miniature workshop, giving Bruce a sideways glance. It was still strange to look at them sometimes, the memory of a vulgar vision threatening to rise. Wanda did what she could, and thankfully it was more than enough.

“Yeah. That was a bad joke. I know you do leave, though.” Bruce caught the suspicious eyes. “As in, leave the building. Without telling anyone.”

Ah, so someone _did_ notice. And of course it was Bruce. At times Tony had, feeling trapped, called for his suit and searched for Loki on his own. He went to his workshop at the Stark Tower, keeping his presence a secret, as he used his computers rather than scouting physical locations. It made him feel sane to be active.

Bruce followed Tony, taking a few seconds to nuzzle Junior between the ears. “I won’t say anything. Unless you give me reason to. Just want you to be safe…whoa-” He eyed the intricate wiring underneath the headpiece. “It’s almost done. That’s amazing.”

Tony scribbled something on his hand, and Bruce noticed how both of his arms were nearly covered with marker scrawls. Did he just not bother with paper anymore?

_**Reason for your visit?** _

Tony tried to come off as curious, rather than busy and irritable. Bruce’s company was always welcomed and Tony didn’t want to ruin his friendship with the big, awkward oaf; but he was busy.

“I wanted to give you a heads up.” He explained, still eyeing the work table. “They think they found a solid lead. Steve’s team is checking it out.”

Tony opened his palms, stretching his mouth into an arch. _Where?_

Bruce wanted to be purposely vague. “An active branch of Hydra. Honestly, that’s all I know. They want this sealed tight. Not even Fury is aware of the situation.”

Tony slowly nodded, looking away as his eyes narrowed. Hydra was infamous for unethical experimentation and stolen technology. No doubt they possessed alien-equipment too. He rubbed his chin, thinking, then glanced down at his arm. _Hm, no more room_.

He walked over to the white board, erasing some old numbers with his hand and picked up a marker.

_**Loki is getting stronger. Wants to rule Asgard. Declare war with Earth.** _

The bastard wanted to prove that there was only a very select few who could properly rule Thor’s home world. Even though Tony never had the intention of governing a planet, much less even enjoyed the idea of being on the succession list, Loki wanted to prove to the people, and to himself, Tony wasn’t worthy. That he was nothing. And if Loki could get the people on his side, trick them into believing Thor is corrupt, he could rule.

“We’re not going to let him.”

The scientist firmly stated. Tony shuffled his feet, fiddling with the marker. Bruce gave a weary smile. “You haven’t heard from Steve lately, have you?”

Tony glanced at the Captain’s hand-written note a few feet away, it resting on a counter top. He hoped from the angle, Bruce couldn’t see it.

“Natasha reports to me. Or, well, she keeps me informed so I can give her updates on you.”

Before Tony could convey the question of why, the other man continued. “Rogers asks about you. A lot. Says I need to physically see you.”

Tony muttered, his arms crossed, though no sound came out. Bruce didn’t have to be a lip-reader to know the man was being sarcastic with the fact Bruce had been checking up on him, daily, per a request and not because he wanted to see him. Bruce wasn’t going to comment on it. “It’s understandable, but…the Cap…he’s serious. More so than usual. Thor is concerned he’s going to try to kill Loki.”

Tony yawned, shrugging half-heartedly.

“That’s just great as far as I’m concerned too,” Bruce pushed out a smile, “But we do need the lowlife alive to, well, get your voice back. Don’t ask me the mechanics of it. I’m still trying to figure out now my pants stay on while I’m green.”

Tony walked back to his table, pushing away some small scraps and checking the torch to feel if it was still warm. He pointed outside, at the billowing American Flag near the Facility’s entrance.

“Steve?”

He nodded, then dragged a finger across his neck before scoffing. _The Captain won’t kill him_.

Bruce watched Tony as he tinkered, knowing his mind was elsewhere. Even though Bruce wasn’t that kind of doctor, he still felt compelled to ask, “You want to talk about it?”

He took his head. _No_.

“Well, at least eat something decent. In South America, I learned how to make some really good stir-fried beef.”

Tony pointed to a phrase already written on his arm from a previous conversation. _**Maybe later**_.

Right. Well, what else did Bruce expect? Tony prided himself on carrying conversation, he knew it irked Tony beyond belief that he had to express what he was thinking or take the time to write it out. Jokes fell flat and auto-correct made typing on tablets the bane of his existence. A quiet dinner probably wasn’t on his to-do list.

On his way out, Bruce took the excited dog with him to get some fresh air.

\- - -

“Widow?” Steve pressed the small communicator to his ear, desperate to think touching it would help him reach someone. “Falcon? Thor? Anyone, report.”

A sudden loud sound pierced his eardrum, and with a snarl Steve threw the device on the ground and stomped on the noisy thing. Separating wasn’t part of the plan, but there were so many Hydra enemies patrolling the base and along the outskirts, chaos was unavoidable.

Rogers knew his team breached the station, but the exact location of his crew was beyond him. To avoid an explosion in the main foyer, the Captain had jumped and curled as best he could behind the shield, and the force of the blast sending him through a high-rise window. The fall was low though; incredibly low. The ceiling of the narrow corridor leaked unpleasant drops of water and the thick cement walls told him he was underground.

Looking back up to where he came, the broken window looked to be five, six stories high. Steve scanned down the dark hallway ahead of him. It was quiet, and it was his only choice to find an exit or discover rooms to search. Most Hydra bases were the same. Sublevels meant experiments, prisoners, secrets. If his team could find access points, Steve knew he’d meet up with them. Wanda, who by far had the most experience with these places, especially.

Shield in hand, the soldier ran into the darkness and tried to listen to any sounds that weren’t his rapid steps. There were no doors lining this hallway, which was odd. What architect would create a corridor with no rooms that led to a dead end and a high, unreachable window?

It felt like a dream. No matter how fast Steve ran, it seemed like he wasn’t making any progress. Like running on a treadmill. Something wasn’t right. The length of the hallway was impossible for what Steve remembered of the blueprints Hawkeye had found earlier. They knew Loki was here, possibly running the place knowing his temperament.

_**Baraag** _

Steve halted, blinking. What he heard sounded like an elephant trumpeting. Maybe he was dreaming.

Out of the darkness, a few feet away, the soldier stared dumbfounded as a something charged its way toward him. It best resembled a wild boar, only it was bigger, nearly half Steve’s size, with dark violet fur and a brown mane.

“Okay. I’m dreaming.”

Steve met the animal directly, gripping it by its tusks and using its momentum to throw the beast behind him. The animal screeched, turning and charging back. So, it wasn’t stupid. What was Hydra doing with this?

Steve used his shield to block the alien-boar’s tusks, pushing back and sending it a few feet away. It landed on its back, the animal’s skinny legs flailing in the air before finding its ground. It didn’t charge again. Instead, he watched as the boar snarled and huffed at him, then continued to scurry down the dark hallway.

“This place is like the finest daydream.” A voice called.

It came in the same direction of where the animal had appeared, but that wasn’t why Steve stiffened. The voice was Tony’s. “Show yourself,” he spat. “So we can get this over with.”

“Why rush something you’ve obviously been savoring, Steve?” It was Tony’s voice, but it sounded so wrong; cruel and vicious. The moment the Captain took a step toward the voice, his shield rattled as it hit the ground. He felt some sort of invisible wave hit him, throwing him to the side and against the wet, disgusting wall. He couldn’t move, feeling something like handcuffs wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles. Whatever it is, it was stronger than adamantium and grew tighter against his skin with every struggle.

“You humans are so predictably dull.” Loki emerged from the shadows, like the villain he was, with arms clasped against his back. He used his familiar, venomous voice.

“Let me go and I’ll show you something interesting.” Steve seethed. “Like how fast I can kick your ass.”

“Fascinating suggestion. But I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse. I thought we could talk, instead.” The demi-god strided over to the opposite side of the wall, leaning against it with a jutting chin and satisfied smile.

“I came here to make sure _Tony_ could speak again, you son-of-a-bitch.”

“But he’s not here, is he?” Loki cocked his head, “Unless you’d like him to be.”

“Fuck you.”

“I used your guise while I paid Mr. Stark a visit. It would only be fair to supply the same service for you, Captain.”

Steve stopped fighting against the invisible bonds, looking like he was just slapped. Loki’s smirk widened, and he lifted himself off the wall to step closer. “Do you know what the man of Iron was doing when you called? He was below me, a pathetic sight of tears and blood, crying for you like the wretched minx he was.” He scoffed, “Some successor to Asgard indeed.”

Captain America bared his teeth, pulling against the magical restraints in a frenzy.

“Don’t blame the Iron knight, he did try his best to fight back. Actually broke through a locking spell at one point. I had to take his voice, Captain; he wouldn’t stop shouting. I made his limbs lifeless. His voice silent. It surprised me he was a virgin there, handsome thing by mortal standards. A pity I got there first, it seems. His future will be colored by his first impression, forced down and silent. Every time you touch him, Captain, he will feel me on his skin.”

Muscles strained against the soldier’s uniform. There was a distinct pounding in his ears.

“I gave him a gift for his troubles, visions of his fellow teammates taking him as I had. Just one glance, that’s all it takes, and the poor man will see a montage of a trusted friend violating him in the most foulest of ways.”

 _The lounge_ , Steve managed to recall through his frenzied mind. What Wanda helped to alleviate. It was pathetic how threatened Loki had felt by Tony, going to such lengths to ensure he’d be forever scarred.

A surge of newfound adrenaline overcame the Captain. The thought of Tony trapped within his own mind made Steve’s gut wrench. Tony’s panicked eyes when realizing this fucker took away his voice. It felt nauseating. Tony wasn’t here. He couldn’t kill the bastard. But Steve could.

With a guttural roar, purposely loud to drown out more of Loki’s incessant taunts, he violently thrashed against the magical bonds, trying in any way to send the wall behind him crumbling.

“Do you _love him_?” Loki laughed, “Oh, the righteous Captain and the Iron harlot-”

The ground below them rumbled. “Loki!”

A few yards away, the ceiling caved in and a bellowing red cape was seen through the thick dust. Both Steve and Loki watched in the small time frame of the man landing and then slamming his hammer into the cement wall. Large cracks reached the Captain, enough for whatever magic that pinned him to the cement broke.

Thor emerged from the dust, gripping his choice of weapon and pointing it toward the man in black armor. “Loki, you dare-”

Steve was quicker. He lunged at the demi-god, tackling Loki to the ground and sending a solid punch to his right cheek. Using his arm wear communicator, the shield slung back into his hand and he crashed an edge of it only inches away from Loki’s head. The hit echoed off the remaining walls, making everything still. “Now you-”

“My friend, stop!” Thor grabbed the Captain by his arm, throwing him off Loki and on the ground nearby.

“I believe he is upset-” Loki drummed fingers along the floor, already sitting up.

“You do not speak,” Thor spat, and moments later he managed to catch Steve before he lunged again. “My friend, you must calm yourself-” It was too late. The Captain already threw his shield with a shout. It ricocheted off the wall before pinning the raven-haired’s robe and lodging itself into cement.

With an annoyed look, Loki tugged at his fabric. Thor wasn’t quick enough to stop the soldier with his hands, but he did manage to land a severe blow to the ground with his mighty hammer.

\- - -

Tony leaned closer to the table, examining the running wires he had just set into the narrow steel and made sure they were both working properly and correctly secured in place. It would be harder to snap this headpiece, let alone even detect it when it was on his person. Minutes slipped away after Bruce left, but they always did when the man found himself in the zone. The temporary lodgings was nothing like his usual workshop at the Tower, in his home, but he endured worse.

Absent-mindedly, a hand went to retrieve more peanuts from the dish, but his fingers hit the cool table instead. He glanced over before looking the other way, seeing the small bowl a few inches away on his left instead.

The headband would be done soon. Then he’d wear it constantly. It would be comfortable to even sleep in.

Tony pushed another wire into place, locking it with pre-made metal indents.

A chill slowly spread over him, traveling across his shoulders, down his chest. His body shivered significantly enough for Tony to drop what he was doing. He wrinkled his nose, glancing up at any air vents inside the room. He understood this was a relatively new building, so the air conditioning may not be functioning properly, but he felt no drift coming from the ceiling outlet. Tony labeled it another symptom of mind-fuckery, and scooted back to the desk on his stool.

But within another few seconds, the odd chill swept back over his body, only this one crept over more intimate areas. Tony emitted a silent shout, standing from his chair, and backed away a few steps. No draft slithered into clothes like that. He scanned the suite, searching for anything out of the ordinary. The small dish of peanuts moved to the floor, in front of the closet.

Tony marched over, whipping the door open and peering into the empty area.

_Guess again_

Tony grimaced, his body tensing as another icy gust of air hit between his legs. _Stop with the ghost shit. Show yourself_.

He turned around, glaring at the disorganized, but empty, suite. He eyed the door. It’d take only a few seconds to reach it, three to tap on the keypad, open it, then dash through. His useless phone laid on the mattress, but he couldn’t call someone. Unless that someone was fluent in breathing patterns. It’d take a few seconds to text. Another thought; _When would Bruce return with Junior?_

 _Quite a while. I can assure you_.

No, that last part wasn’t his thought. It sounded like him, but…

Tony’s face crinkled and he clutched his head. His stilled body swayed as a warm sensation radiated throughout. _Whoa, holy fuck._

Heat rose to his cheeks. His legs wobbled, and he regretfully dropped to the floor. Tony eyed the device a few feet away on the table, and decided walking on all-fours was the best option.

_Not for me._

He clenched his eyes shut, hands now fists, as a rapidly growing heat swirled down below his stomach and branched out. He panted, mouthing a string of curses, unable to keep up with what his body was feeling. It felt like an ambush of ecstasy, a fire uncontrollably consuming him. It felt too good, shockingly unlike anything he had ever felt before, even when moving an inch. _Fucking -mother of god- piece of shit-_

_I don’t believe your thoughts quite match the divine expression on your face, my little Iron Knight._

The perverted bastard continued to invade Tony’s mind, using his own damn voice and twisting it into something evil. It gave the man the motivation he needed to keep crawling along the carpet. He was so close to the table. The headpiece didn’t have its finishing touches, but it should still do its job. But, _damn_ , did he ever just want to roll on his back and let the release come- _No, no, no, nononono, holy shit- stay focused. Stop thinking with your dick._

_No, please do._

Tony’s eyes widened from the ghostly sensation of his sex being stroked. This was impossible. Wanda had liberated his head from Loki’s grasp.

“The Witch,” a voice from behind Tony began, “could not get rid of all of me, little knight. She couldn’t destroy the link I have to you.”

Tony turned his head. Loki stood behind him, admiring the view as he continued to use Tony’s damn voice to mock and ridicule. Not playing into the game, Tony trekked forth, slowly, and headed for the table.

Amused, and a bit curious of his newfound determination, Loki walked so he was beside the crawling man. One striding step matched three of Tony’s. He smiled.

“I’ve never encountered a mortal who fights against such a dilemma.” He laughed, but it wasn’t like Tony’s own delighted chuckle at all. It was dark, biting.

Tony tried to stay focused, keep his eye on the prize, but the currents of sensation continued to wrack his body. _Just a little more. Just a few more steps, you’re close. Yeah, come on. Get the thing, destroy the bastard, then go to town._

“Oh, no. I intend to finish what I start, little Knight.”

Tony opened his mouth in a quiet gasp, his movements put on hold to sustain a sudden, yet powerful wave that rocked his hips.

“Oh, the things I can make you feel.”

Tony shuddered, because with his eyes closed, it was worse. His voice, used against him, spoke to Tony and he could still feel the phantom pulsation in his throat, even if the sound hissed passed Loki’s pale lips. _No, no, no, get over this. Just because you haven’t in a while- hoooly shit, no, not on the new carpet-_

Tony slapped himself to snap out of the haze, the pain helping him to keep afloat. He bit his tongue then, hard, for added ache, and continued to grow closer to the table. He had to stop when a heavy shoe landed square on his ankle.

A muted shout mixed with a heated glare. Loki-Loki-fucking-Loki-when did Tony’s life become a fucked up porno, mind-fuck edition? Before the alien could mock him again, before he could do anything to numb his limbs or freeze his body, Tony used his freed leg to send a robust kick to the man’s nether regions. Loki caught his foot mid-way through the second lunge, and projected Tony into the exact place he wanted to go; against the desk.

His back hit its edge and his vision blotted for a moment. Objects cluttering the workspace fell or toppled over. Tony was released from the pleasure emitting throughout his body, but he didn’t want to relax just yet. He eyed the end of the headpiece seated just barely off the corner of the counter, and he grabbed it like the quickest thief. The table seemingly collapsed on its own, but Tony was limber enough to move out of the way before it crashed down on him.

Breathing fast, he somersaulted to avoid more hits from the man, and hurriedly placed the band on his head, securing the two ends on his ears. His mind was empty. He was alone inside it.

“I’m still here,” Loki hissed, standing before him. He lifted Tony by his shirt before throwing him against the overturned table. Tony shook his head to clear the daze, keeping his hands by his head to protect the band; though he knew the thing wouldn’t move, he was paranoid. _This has to work._

And it was. His body ceased feeling those odd chills, the ominous voice in his head, those unwanted sensations. Instead everything was him; one hundred percent. Unless Loki could physically tear the device off his cranium - _and like fucking hell would he let him_ \- he was safe from a mental invasion.

In the mess, Tony grabbed a repulsor. It wasn’t attached to any armor, or even had a paint job. He held it like a gun, pointing it at Loki, while his other hand pressed the band for assurance.

“Do you really think-”

Tony pressed on the charge, sending out an excessive blast that would have fried his hand if within a suit piece. It hit the demi-god directly in his chest, sending him back a few feet and causing him to lose his footing. He laughed, there, on the ground, still using Tony’s voice. Tony took a few steps closer as the repulsor charged for another blow.

“You may have brought an end to my mind tricks, little Knight but I still have your voice. What’s the gregarious Tony Stark going to do about that?”

With an resolute glare, Tony flicked his middle finger. The charge emitted another blast that hit Loki’s head directly. His entire form vanished a fraction of a flash later.

It had been a decoy. A fake.

Tony stared at the burnt carpet, catching his breath, then turned his head to examine the rest of the room. Loki was gone. From his mind and the room.

Only then did he allow himself to collapse, sitting on his knees, and tossed the smoking weapon out of his hand. _Jesus-fucking-Christ_.

Minutes later Bruce entered the room with an excited Junior, his face dropping at the condition of the suite. It looked even worse than before. He spotted Tony sitting in the middle of it all, adjusting the headpiece that he seemed to have gotten working. A small smile was there, on his face. “What the hell did you _do_?”

\- - -

“Oh, I didn’t do anything of the sort,” Loki smiled, pleased, even if he was in the strong grip of his half-brother.

“You have executed deeds most foul, then you goad my friend for the mere enjoyment of it!” Thor billowed, “I am not in a gaming mood!”

“Well, yes, I can _see_ that.” Loki was pinned to the wall, trapped against it by the god of thunder’s hand wrapped in his robes. The Captain stood beside Thor, looking just as angry.

“Tell me how to get Tony’s voice back.”

The criminal rolled his eyes upwards, pondering. “You know, it escapes me…”

Thor tugged the skinnier man off the wall, then slammed him back into the hard cement that made dust fall and sections crack. Loki’s head bounced off the barrier.

“You remember now?”

The man tried to lift himself up higher to breathe against Thor’s strength better. “I-I give you his voice, I want something in return.”

“You shall be fortunate to have a pulse after this, Loki.” Thor applied more pressure.

“Yes, yes, but…his voice. His voice and I stay on Asgard. No banishment or prison on…another world. Or dimension.”

“You piece of-”

“My friend,” Thor held Steve back. “Tell us how to acquire Warrior Stark’s ability to speak, and, as new King of Asgard, I will see to it that you never see light again.”

Loki looked, suspiciously, at both men, before gesturing to the inside of his robe. Steve stepped closer and used a hand to fumble into the numerous pockets of the trickster. He was skeptic, thinking of old cartoons with the mouse-trap gag, before feeling something like a bundle of string. He pulled it out, it resembling something like a thick, but short, black necklace with swirling sliver dots appearing, vanishing, and reappearing somewhere else.

It was like the cosmos on a single thread.

**Author's Note:**

> Any support (views, kudos, comments) is wonderful and inspiring. Thanks for reading.


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